When Even Hindsight is Clouded
by dragonchic
Summary: [In Fanfic Limbo. See profile for details] Godzilla disappeared. HEAT disbanded. Everyone moved on. So why is the past is suddenly catching up with them?
1. Prologue: The Strict and Nice Ones

**Disclaimer**: Godzilla: the series is property of Sony while Godzilla himself belongs to Toho.

**Category: **Right now it looks to be drama topped with action, romance, and a healthy serving of angst.

**Rating:** PG-13 for now

**Comments**: Well here's another dark future-fic from me. It's semi-based on the challenge that spawned _Bete Noire du Avenir_. This time, however, I am changing things around in an attempt to stay truer to the characters. Certain elements will be the same in both fics, but I consider this a total revamp over an extensive revision, hence its meriting its own place on FFN.

When Even Hindsight Is Clouded

Prologue: The Strict and Nice Ones

---Costa Rica--- 

The setting sun painted a rose-colored horizon against an inky outline of coconut-bearing treetops. Wildlife graced the picturesque landscape with an ease unmatched almost anywhere else in the world and a content silence permeated every inch of the cozy village scene. It was once an escape for tourists seeking haven from the overbearing bustle of modern civilization. Now, however, few dared step outside without the shaky knowledge that _el sol_ watched over them. Few besides the shadowy figure that suddenly scurried up a neighboring palm tree.

Diego maintained a firm grasp on the tree trunk with his left arm while examining a coconut with his right. Finding the fruit to his liking, he gently released the trunk from the crook of his elbow, gliding down until his foot smashed into the ground and he landed rather unceremoniously on his stomach. His eight-year-old body apparently could not yet perfectly emulate the deeds of his older brothers.

Brushing bits of sand out of his shirt, Diego's ears perked at the sound of voices. Voices that spoke unaccented English. In earlier years that may have meant benign visitors, but for the duration of Diego's life, the sound of hushed whispers was never a welcome accompaniment to the ocean surf. His father repeatedly told him to leave any such whisperers be, but the child's natural curiosity refused to be quashed. Rising to his feet as quietly as possible, Diego crept behind the low cover of beach vegetation to garner a better vantage point.

Four men were talking. Two were foreign to Diego, though they appeared to hail from local parts. The other two, despite a technical status as foreigners, were not new to the child at all. He had seen them here many times before, whenever _el monstruo_ decided it was time for a human-flavored snack. Diego had never actually seen _el monstruo_, but from what he had heard, he should be grateful for that fact.

Regardless of Diego's good fortune to never suffer an encounter with the local legend, however, he did in fact recognize these two men. They probably didn't know anything about him, and Diego, for his part, did not even know their names. One had a stern, square face with dark eyes that made Diego uncomfortable. Still, the strict one occasionally made an effort to be amiable, and the child couldn't fault him for trying. It was just that something seemed to lurk inside him, haunting his eyes whenever he looked upon his constant companion. There was tension there, tension Diego was not sure the other knew existed. It was plain to see now, as the nice one scooped up something from the surf and examined it while the strict one watched. Diego's little sister was not sure why he had named the other stranger 'the nice one,' as he did not smile any more than the man who appeared to be his partner. Their mother had said that was understandable, as they usually had to visit under grim circumstances.

Even so, Diego felt his nicknaming system was justified. The nice one did not yell or bark orders at the people helping them as the strict one did. He just went about examining the surroundings, separate from the others and whispering in the strict one's ear from time to time. Diego supposed he must be an outsider of sorts, especially since he did not wear the uniform clothing that perpetually adorned those that accompanied the core pair. Shifting from foot to foot to quell his restlessness, Diego decided he liked that, since the appearance of the medley of green and brown usually meant trouble for the village residents.

Something brushed against his foot. Twitching in anxiety, Diego launched an oblong leap, hoping to avoid whatever lurked among the roots of the verdant foliage. The second time it grazed his skin, however, a yelp escaped the child's lips as he instinctively tumbled away.

"Did you hear that?" Diego was not completely fluent in English, but he knew that wasn't good. Hastily scrambling to his feet, he began what he thought would be a successful escape before a strong hand gripped his collar, effectively yanking him backwards. The youngster suddenly found himself staring into the embittered face of the strict one, who seem none to pleased about discovering an eavesdropper. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Tony? What is it?"

The strict one (Tony, he supposed) jerked his head back to face the forthcoming profile of his colleague. "A would-be spy," the older man replied dryly.

The nice one came fully into view and blinked. "Oh."

Sputtering an apology, Diego attempted to wriggle free.

"Oh no you don't," the strict one said, "you're not going anywhere until you explain exactly what gave you the idea to listen in on matters that don't concern you in the least."

The boy could only stare helplessly, as he did not fully understand what the angry man was saying. The nice one laid a hand on his partner's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "He's only a child. It's just a case of harmless curiosity."

Relinquishing his grip on the hostage Costa Rican, the strict one gaped at the nice one's naïveté. "Harmless? If he heard just two seconds-"

"He probably didn't understand a word of what we were saying."

"And if he did? If these people got wind of what was going on here…" Diego started to tune out as the conservation no longer focused so much on him. He did, however, wonder why they did not think to just ask him if he had heard anything. Adults had this strange habit of speaking as if children were not there.

Suddenly a gentle, yet firm, hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him back into reality as Diego found his gaze matched by uncommonly light blue eyes. His lips moving of his own accord, the child murmured a timid apology that was too soft to be completely understood by his captors.

The nice one smiled a bit at him, letting the previous murmur go ignored for the moment. "Hi."

Wary of the stranger's intentions, as if the current composure could be a prelude to explosive anger, Diego could only stare back with a wide-eyed and fearful gaze. Refusing to be discouraged, the nice one pressed on. "What's your name?"

"Diego," he replied, finding his voice at long last.

"Well Diego," the nice one began in a steady tone meant to put the boy at ease, "you do know it's not nice to listen in on other people's conversations, don't you?"

"I know, señor," Diego replied, his voice apologetic. "I was only curious."

One brown eyebrow arched. "About what?"

Summoning the courage needed to continue speaking, the South American native attempted to explain. "I have seen you both before. Sometimes you come with many other men, sometimes just a few. But you are always here." A frown suddenly came over the nice one's features, causing the boy to momentarily hesitate before plowing on. "I mean, you are not _always_ here, but you are always here after it happens."

Out of the corner of his eye Diego could see the strict one's jaw clench, but the nice one remained calm. "After what happens, Diego?"

The child was shaking now. He did not like his current situation, but he liked what they were talking about even less. "After…after it comes. To eat." Swallowing to keep whatever bravado compelled him to eavesdrop in the first place, Diego attempted to justify his actions. "I thought that you would know something. About how to keep safe, or when he will come back. The officials and the police, they do not tell us anything."

Diego's last statement caused the nice one to aim a pointed look at his partner before leveling his gaze with the boy's. "I'm sorry, Diego, but we don't know much more than you. But I'll make sure that what we do know gets out to your family, and all your neighbors. How does that sound?"

Smiling in relief, the child nodded furiously to signify his assent. The nice one smiled and released him. "It's dark. You should go home."

Wasting no time in complying with the adult's request, Diego scampered off towards his home. Once again, however, curiosity overcame him as he paused to gaze back at the dark outlines that remained on the beach. They were speaking much more loudly now, loudly enough so that Diego could understand their conservation, and neither sounded happy with the other. "You let him go? Just like that?" the strict one exclaimed angrily.

"He was just concerned about his village's safety, a problem we wouldn't have if you pressured the Costa Rican government into being a little more forthcoming about what's going on here."

"Forgive me for not being as casual about matters of international security. Not all of us have the benefit of being privy to such prized information without years of training and experience to teach us of its implications."

"I'd rather you didn't underestimate my experience," the nice (but now angry) one shot back. "The lack of a uniform covered in little stars doesn't automatically demote me to the rank of clueless civilian. In case you've forgotten, I've devoted the past eight years of my life to cleaning up this perpetual mess," he hissed, beginning a trek towards the opposite end of the beach. Stopping for a moment, he seemed to contemplate something before he turned towards his companion. "In any case, I let him go, _Major_, because frankly, we have bigger things to worry about."

---End Prologue---

Confused much? Well it is an unhappy future, and obviously things change. All will be explained soon. My intention with this prologue was to raise some questions, and hopefully, some interest. :o) I'm sure you can piece together at least part of what's going on through the combination of the prologue and my little summary, or at the very least who the strict and nice ones are. R/R please!


	2. 1: Life's Only Certainty is Change

**Comments:** Thanks to dolphinology for expressing interest. This first chapter should offer some exposition into what's going on.

Please don't be scared off by the amount of original characters in this; they're needed in the beginning, but can take a backseat to those we _really_ care about once things get going.

When Even Hindsight is Clouded

Chapter One: Life's Only Certainty is Change

---Santa Monica, California---

It really was ironic, the way life usually worked itself out. Always wanting to kick you when you were at your finest hour. As if someone took some kind of sick, twisted pleasure in watching people plummet from a soaring high into the proverbial abyss.

Oh yes, Carson Redford certainly understood that cynical philosophy. In fact, he lived it. His life had been a roller coaster of exhilarating ups, quickly followed by devastating downs. Whenever something good happened, a horrible blow would be dealt to him, leaving him reeling in its quake. But this wasn't really about life in general. Rather, it was one particularly harsh blow dealt to him over two years ago that found the former professional detective on a very personal case.

Those that say it is better to have loved and lost have probably never been in love. Because Carson had loved, loved more intensely than he ever had before, only to have his love stolen away from him.

The memory was forever burned into his conscience. He had tried to stop her, tried to tell her this particular scoop was much too dangerous. But she wouldn't listen, and that tenacity could certainly be considered an asset in her line of work. Whether her eyes were steadily fixed on a promotion, personal glory, or just trying to do right, she refused to lose her focus. After years of careful investigation, she had gathered enough to mount her final campaign. She would bust the Ring. And he would be there to help.

The Ring…that damned organization and every one of its members needed to be treated to a slow roast in the fires of hell as far as Carson was concerned. He didn't understand why the Ring hadn't already fallen flat on its face. Assassins were treacherous by nature, and expecting mass loyalty seemed foolhardy at best. But those bastards running the Ring of Fire had somehow spun a web of the world's best assassins into their hands, dangling bloodthirsty villains like wooden puppets to do their bidding.

He'd give them their due: they were damn resourceful. Resourceful enough to realize a certain couple was hot on their trail, and the fairer half was about to expose them to the world. Resourceful enough to track that couple down to a cheap motel neighboring a Shell station. Resourceful enough to send an agent to kill her while he stepped out for a midnight snack.

"Guilt runs freely in the consciences of the damned…" He could hope against hope that those monsters felt some remorse for what they had done, but ultimately, he knew he was kidding himself. One hundred percent of the emotional strain and guilt over her death lay heavily on his heart. If only he had stopped her from digging too deep, stopped her from overstepping her bounds. They should have proceeded more slowly, gotten more people involved. But she wanted this to be their best-kept secret – not that they didn't have plenty already.

So he had let her have her way, and ultimately, it had cost her her life, and him whatever part of his life was worth living. Only the drive to complete their final mission, to see her vision through, had kept him going. And now, in yet another cheap motel, and after years of dedication, exhaustion, and an innumerable amount of tears, he was ready. Those sons of bitches at the Ring would never know what hit 'em.

A creak just outside his room jerked his attention to the window. Pale green eyes stared attentively at the branches of a tree outside, watching for any indication of movement. A breeze passed by, ruffling the leaves, causing the shutter of the window to move back and forth, creaking. A sigh escaped from his lips and he closed his eyes in relief. That was it. A breeze causing the shutter to creak back and forth. Nothing more.

Carson took a deep breath to calm his nerves before sliding a discrete black suitcase out from under the bed. Opening it, he sifted through its contents. Photographs, notes, vital phone numbers. Glancing at the clock, he decided it would be best to catch some shut-eye before picking up his cell phone and putting the final elements of his plan into action. Stripping off his shirt and shedding his khakis, he threw the discarded clothes onto the floor before moving to climb into bed.

_Creak_. There it was again. Stealing a glance at the window, he bit his lip when he saw the leaves still, undisturbed. What had caused that? He scanned the room, searching for a hidden figure, an unidentified shadow, anything…

Nothing.

Of course there was nothing. What was he expecting to see? Monsters under the bed? A tiny bartender in the mini bar perhaps?

Carson laughed. He was letting his active imagination turn into thoughts of paranoia. No one was here. But just to make sure, he moved to close the window completely, jumping at the soft sounds of the stepping of his own feet all the way. He shook his head. This was past paranoid. This was bordering on insanity.

A flash in the back of the room caught his attention. Glancing at the back wall, he barely saw the shadow dart across the room. His heart rate quickened. This wasn't paranoia. Someone was here…

Slowly getting up, he cast a deliberate glare around the room. His eyes stopped on his reflection in the mirror. Carson saw something in his eyes that he hadn't seen in years. Fear. Honest to God, paralyzing fear. He took a deep breath. Calm down. Don't jump to any conclusions. Just slowly, make your way towards the door…

His fingers grazed against the cool metal of the doorknob. Keeping his eyes glued to the interior of the room, he slowly slid the lock out of place and turned the knob. He then pushed his body against the oak slab and braced for the swing.

Problem was, the swing refused to come.

Eyes widening, Carson pushed his weight even more forcefully against the wooden door. It didn't budge. A barely audible whisper was uttered. "No…"

The shadow. He saw it again. It was there. A dark figure darting from corner to corner of the room. Slowly, deliberately coming closer. Footfalls gaining volume. Shallow breathing becoming more and more audible. He wasn't imagining this. This was real. They were here. _They knew_.

In times of life-threatening danger, one's body usually released endorphins to energize a possible escape. But for Carson, that did not happen. Defeated, he slumped to the floor, the overwhelming recognition of his fate causing numbness in his brain. He couldn't escape. No one escaped. His sharp ears picked up another near silent footstep. Tired green eyes that reflected defeat looked up…and locked with another's.

One ragged breath cut through eerie silence. Green orbs stared intently into brown ones before focusing out over the entire image. So this is what death looked like. The cliché black-hooded executioner had morphed and taken the form of a woman. One that Carson would consider especially beautiful had the circumstances been different. Jet-black locks framed a round, cold, face that stared him down with a chilling indifference. Idly, he wondered why she didn't bother with a mask, before realizing anyone that saw her face was most likely resting in the company of maggots.

A small, bitter smile came over Carson's face. "I went too far, didn't I?"

A cool stare greeted him before the angel in devil's clothing unsheathed a light katana.

Nodding, the detective resigned himself to his fate. "I understand."

"_Bon_," came the husky reply as the searing kiss of cool steel graced his skin, "because I was never one for lengthy explanations."

* * *

---Cambridge, Massachusetts--- 

Jonah Levine moved a strand of sweaty hair out of his face before folding a sheet of notepaper into a makeshift fan. The combination of the broken air-conditioning and the packed MIT lecture hall made for an almost unbearably stuffy atmosphere. Many would not even bother staying were it not for the keynote speaker of the American Association for Artificial Intelligence's annual symposium.

The aforementioned speaker was currently in the midst of a demonstration that held every occupant in the room captivated. After all, it wasn't every day that one got to witness history in the making with one of the world's leading experts on artificial intelligence. Jonah was certainly willing to count his blessings, as it had taken quite a bit of sweet-talking for the infamously headstrong young robotist to procure admission to the exclusive event.

An off-stage rustling could be heard, causing speculative titters to run through the crowd, intensifying as a streamlined yellow robot glided out onto the stage.

"As you can see through my little friend here," a voice swept through the sound system, "quite a bit of progress has been made in the past year."

An approving murmur started up, quieting only when the man they had all traveled to see began speaking again. "Increased grace and a more aesthetically pleasing look aren't the only recent upgrades," the speaker began, pressing a few buttons on a small remote control. The robot's lower limbs suddenly disappeared out from under him to be replaced by a rolling tread similar to those found on the bottom of tanks. "As you can see, the head and upper body also fold neatly downwards, compressing into a adaptable tight-knit unit capable of squeezing through small spaces, only to pop back out again once he's done." Several presses of a button later, the bot morphed back to normal, save for the remaining tire tread. "The alternate treads offer unmatched versatility, whether over rocky, uneven terrain or a slick steel floor." He paused, smiling a bit. "Why don't you show them, NIGEL?"

A blinking red light and slight whirring indicated the bot's comprehension as the rough tread was swapped for small, smooth wheels. "I'd be happy to," a tinny, robotic voice hummed over the speakers. "Or should I be expecting a wintry expedition?" it asked as runners appeared to replace the wheels. The combination of mechanical adjustments and a leap forward in the actual AI caused a furious scribbling of notes and excited whispers among the crowd.

"Dr. Craven?"

The robotist looked up, surprise written across his face. It was customary to leave questions for the end of a speaker's presentation.

But Jonah wasn't one for following old customs, and he certainly wasn't a patient man either. Besides, this question was important, and he didn't want it to get lost in a sea of insignificant babbling. "The increased versatility is most impressive. What kinds of practical applications do you see for this?"

Mendel Craven framed his answer carefully, as 'I'm not sure of the practical applications yet, considering the price tag' was not what could be called an acceptable answer. "Well obviously NIGEL is still a test-subject, but duplicates could eventually be used for a variety of purposes, ranging from rescue teams to research expeditions to-"

"Mutant chasing?" Jonah offered.

The blond was visibly taken aback. "Um, well, I suppose…" he stammered, before somewhat regaining his composure. "Though keeping a lid on the 'mutant problem' has been left in very capable hands with our government," he finished, his conscience raging at him for suppressing his rather strong opinions on the matter.

"The most capable?" Jonah pressed on. "I'm sure aid from a robot as extraordinary as your boy here would help."

"That isn't really what NIGEL is-"

"Designed to do?" the younger man interrupted, smirking slightly. "Sure didn't stop you from turning him into your little shadow while you were on your little mutant adventures with a Dr. Niko Tatopoulos, and if I recall correctly, a Dr. Elsie Chapman as well." Jonah paused. "How're they doing anyway? Heard from them lately?"

Only Jonah noticed the slight wince come across Mendel's features. "I haven't stayed in touch with my former colleagues, nor do I have any intention of doing so." He bit his lip as one especially glaring exception screamed in his mind. "My adventure days, as you called them, ended years ago."

Jonah smiled enigmatically before conceding a temporary defeat. "Fair enough," he replied before taking his seat.

Mendel curtly nodded before returning to his presentation, doing his best to disguise how flustered he had suddenly become. "Well then," he began weakly, addressing the now curious, gossiping crowd as a whole, "this seems as good a time as any for an intermission." Never mind that the opening session of the symposium had only been underway for an hour. "I'm looking forward to continuing my presentation, and answering any _relevant_ questions after the break."

'My question was relevant,' Jonah mused, an infamously irritating smirk once again plastered on his face. Rising along with the rest of the audience, he bypassed the packed pathway to the exits and instead made a beeline to the stage. "Dr. Craven, I must say, that was one of the most illuminating conservations I've ever had at one of these stuffy old clubhouse gatherings."

"Wonderful," Mendel shot back, annoyance no longer hidden under the guise of professionalism. "But would you mind warning me the next time you decide to humiliate me in front of my most respected colleagues?"

"Aw, I didn't humiliate you," Jonah replied, grinning widely. "They'll be talking about this all through your conveniently-timed intermission."

The blond groaned. "That's what I was afraid of."

The younger robotist looked at him thoughtfully. "Is that all you're afraid of?"

Mendel blinked as he fished through a bag for allergy medication. "You're my psychiatrist now?"

"Well no," Jonah answered. "More like a recruiter."

"If this is about working for one of the government's little petting zoos, then you can forget it."

"You wound me, Doctor," Jonah replied with a histrionic flair. "Really, do you think I'd stoop to that level?"

Mendel stared at him. "Yes…"

Rolling his eyes, Jonah continued. "Well you're not 100 wrong; more like 99 or so."

Mendel shrugged, clearly uninterested. "Ok," he said before turning to tend to the yellow bot that had rolled itself over towards the two men.

Scowling in frustration, Jonah bent slightly over the now kneeling robotist. "I take it you realize my question had some ulterior motives."

"I figured as much," Mendel sighed before turning yet again to face him. "And?"

The corners of Jonah's lips turned upwards. "I have a proposition for you."

* * *

---Roswell, New Mexico--- 

The unseasonably intense New Mexican sun showed no sign of halting its relentless attack as a two-ton chameleon changed its hide to match the golden-orange backdrop of the desert landscape. A standard defense mechanism; however, the young mutant had little to fear in its current habitat. Little to fear, that is, besides the uncomfortable probing of an ever-curious scientific mind.

Blue eyes squinted at the seemingly homogenous vision laid out in front of them, seeking a tell-tale outline to betray the newest addition to the base's collection of specimens. Finding it at last, the blonde researcher approached at a casual, yet deliberate pace. "Easy there," she whispered once she realized her target had caught sight of her. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The chameleon squinted before backing up into a nearby rock formation. Once it found its retreat halted, it switched gears and decided to hiss at the intruder instead.

"Someone's grumpy today," Candace muttered, crouching down so that she'd be at eye level with the low-lying mutant. Fingering an exceptionally sharp needle tucked away in her jacket, she debated the use of her last resort. The animal no doubt recognized the instrument by now, and if she were lucky, would flee at first sight. If she were unlucky, she might gain first-hand insight into the aggression patterns of mutated reptiles. Not that she didn't already have plenty.

Summoning her best 'comfort' voice, she once again spoke soothingly to the frightened beast. "I know all of this is new and scary, but we just want to take you inside so we can have a look at you." Her eyes trailed down the length of its torso, frowning when they traced over an ugly scar running across its belly. "We also want to see if we can figure out what did that to you," she explained, gesturing vaguely to its underside.

The chameleon blinked curiously at the somewhat familiar stranger. It knew it had seen her before, yet could not recall whether the creature standing in front of it was hostile or friendly. Its stance was non-threatening enough, and it seemed to respect the implied buffer zone it had established. Perhaps trusting the yellow-headed female would not be so dangerous.

Two gold eyebrows shot up as the chameleon slowly eased its way off the support of neighboring rocks and towards what would normally be considered an intruder on its newly adopted territory. 'That was quicker than usual,' Candace mused, silently thanking whatever higher power existed for her good luck.

But like most things in life, luck was not permanent, and a booming voice over an outdoor loudspeaker zipped up her current reserve of good fortune. "Dr. Kirk, you have a…visitor, of sorts."

An all-too familiar second voice chimed in. "Visitor? Yo Candy, tell this new caffeine jockey of your's that I'm way more than that."

The progress Candace had made in turning the chameleon's mood vanished as it stiffened and scampered away, terrified by the unexpected clamor. Cursing under her breath, she squeezed the upper bridge of her nose in an attempt to mitigate the onset of a sudden headache. "Four years, Hernandez…four years, and I still don't know what to do with you."

"Oh I wouldn't say that," someone murmured above her ear. "You did just fine last night…"

Candy swatted her surprise guest away before rising and brushing off her shorts. "In two seconds, you just managed to ruin three days of work."

Randy Hernandez awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Really? That a new record?"

Rolling her eyes, the researcher brushed past her husband and into the mutant conservatory. "I've spent days trying to get our newest addition comfortable enough with me to come out of hiding. And I was finally there, before _someone_ opened his big mouth and blew it."

Ignoring the reprimand, Randy dutifully followed her inside. "Newest addition? You mean the raptor?" he asked, referring to a specimen that looked as if it had been yanked from a Hollywood dinosaur flick.

Candy shook her head. "No, the chameleon."

Recognition flitted across the former hacker's features. "You haven't named him yet?"

"He's only been here for a few days," Candy replied as she bent over a sink to wash her hands. "Besides, Dr. Connors says it's better to refer to them by their classification code…keeps us from getting attached."

"Where's the fun in that?" came the playful reply.

"This isn't supposed to be fun," Candy said pointedly. "I'm here to study and rehabilitate these creatures, not adop-er, make pets out of them," she quickly finished.

If Randy had caught her slip of tongue, he chose to ignore it. "I know, I know. Just trying to spice things up around here."

"You did enough of that with that PA-stunt," she retorted. "I can only hope you didn't traumatize poor Linda."

"I'm sure she's fine," he answered, before smiling mischievously. "Though she's probably questioning your taste in men…"

The blonde threw up her hands in mock exasperation. "As if I needed more of a reason for people to think I'm crazy, I went and married you."

Randy circled her waist with his arms before drawing her to him. "It may have been crazy, but it doesn't seem like you regret it," he retorted softly.

Resting her forehead against his, Candy sighed. "No, I don't suppose I do." A glance at a nearby clock set off a sudden suspicion. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be at work?"

The younger man released her before laughing sheepishly. "Um, yeah. About that…"

Their previous romantic moment forgotten, Candy fixed him with a sharp stare. "What did you do?"

"Nothing illegal."

"Oh that's so reassuring," the blonde replied, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, don't worry about it, ok?" Randy attempted to reassure her. "I just took a half-day. Clued the Niedermeister's secretary in before I did it too."

"Why'd you leave early?" Candy asked, suspicions slightly lessened, but not yet fully gone.

"I wanted to see you?" Randy offered. The look on his wife's face could only be interpreted as _'Nice try.'_ Sighing, he finally confessed. "I had to make a break for it. I had this gut feeling Mr. Niedermeyer was going to make me work this weekend."

Candace shook her head. "You can't keep running away from him, no matter how much he may resemble the boss from hell."

"Yeah I know," Randy replied, expression thoughtful. "I just couldn't stand the thought of spending more time there than absolutely necessary. That entire office building must've fallen out of Satan's ass."

"Funny, I'm having trouble recalling a recent job that you've actually liked," Candy said as she began a short trek down a silver-lined hallway.

"None of them were this bad," Randy claimed as he followed her once again. "Mr. Niedermeyer is beyond evil. I'm thinking he used to be one of your little pet projects at you-know-where, before some rogue labrat disguised him as a human."

Candy rolled her eyes. "Haven't you said that about all your bosses?"

The sudden quietness that ensued startled her a bit, before she realized her mistake. The blonde bit her lip. "Look, Randy, I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he replied, shaking off her concern. Within a millisecond his normally sunny disposition had returned. "Enough talk about me and my exciting journey through the corporate rat-race," the software engineer piped up. "Tell me about your day with Chemo."

"Chemo?" Candace asked, expression quizzical.

"The new guy. Chemo, Chamo, same sort of thing."

Candy laughed incredulously. "You can't honestly believe I'd name him after cancer therapy?"

"Ok, so my naming sucks," Randy acknowledged, laughing as well. "But still, whatever it you did here has got to be ten times better than clacking out so much useless code I should've gotten carpal tunnel about five times by now."

Expression softening, Candace decided to indulge him. "Alright, we'll go get some coffee." She checked her watch. "But I do have to be back at the place that shall not be named in fifteen minutes."

"Great!" Randy enthused, "I'm buying!" He paused to pull out his wallet and shift through its contents, before bashfully raising his eyes to meet her's. "Um…"

"What?"

"You got ten bucks I could borrow?"

* * *

---Argentina--- 

Paradoxically distracted by the sheer monotony of her work, Kim Basset inadvertently smudged caked dirt across her face in an attempt to wipe her brow. Groaning, she peeled off her gloves and got up to check on her colleagues' progress. Two days of digging through dirt and cracking through rock, and she hadn't even found a primordial tooth. The South American nation had served for a great number of paleontological finds in the past, but unfortunately, seemed to have dried up.

"Anything?" she asked a nearby digger.

"Nothing yet," came the deflated reply. Her team leader finally stood to stretch, arching her back to ease the tension that had built up.

Kim joined her, relieved to finally begin what appeared to be a break. "Ready to call this whole thing a bust?"

"We should give it more time," the other paleontologist replied. "This excavation site is huge. We could have easily missed something."

Sighing, Kim couldn't help but agree. She hadn't given the dig nearly enough time to be considered thorough. But taking into account the last three digs her team had also come up with absolutely nothing, her spirits couldn't help but lower.

"Let's take a fifteen minute break," her companion announced. "I think we could all use some shade."

"A break sounds great," Kim enthused, "I can't help but-"

"Dr. Chapman, Dr. Basset!" an urgent voice suddenly cut her off. "Come quick! I found something!"

Elsie Chapman sighed as she moved to join the anxious grad student. "What's got you so excited Jimmy? Find a buried _Playboy_?"

"Haha," James Tolliver replied dryly. "If you're going to be so mean to me, then I may have to reconsider letting you in on my big discovery."

Elsie started to reply when Kim's actions interrupted her. "Move Jimmy," the blonde huffed, shoving the younger man out of her way. Kim was tired, sweaty, and cranky, and there was no way she was letting some hotshot twenty-something get the best of her.

The redhead muffled a laugh. "What's he got, Kim?"

"Something actually worthwhile," she replied, surprise evident in her tone. Picking up a brush, she swept away some remnants of dirt covering the embedded skull. "Those teeth obviously indicate a carnivore." She squinted at the visible portions of the skull. "I can't see the entire head, but I'm thinking Carnotaurus."

"Like the Zodiac sign?" Jimmy asked, confused.

"No, Jimbo," Elsie replied, rolling her eyes as she bent down next to Kim. "The old Ford."

The raven-haired man frowned. "It wasn't that stupid a question."

Biting her lip as she let that jem of an opening go by, Elsie focused her attention on more important matters; namely, the new discovery. Carnotaurus fossils were pretty rare, with only one complete skeleton recovered in the entire world. "Go make yourself useful and send word of this to Dr. Lambert," Elsie ordered.

Growling something about how he never got to do anything fun, Jimmy nonetheless complied.

"It's pretty solidly embedded in this rock," Kim observed. "What say we get one of the guys to chip a big chunk out, and excavate the skeleton later?"

Elsie nodded. "That's as good a plan as any." She turned back towards their makeshift camp. "Alberto! Caesar! Get over here!"

The twin Latin American paleontologists jogged over and got to work once their boss explained their task. Satisfied, Elsie rose and walked over to their main tent to wash her hands. Kim followed her, glancing back at the find every few steps. "Nice to know this one wasn't a bust."

Elsie smiled slightly in agreement. "We'll find out how little of a bust it was once the guys get that rock chipped away. Until then, we could go work on the opposite side of the site."

"Or…" Kim offered, slightly panicked at the thought of their small break cut short, "we could have girl-talk."

"You've known me long enough to know I don't do girl-talk Kimmy," Elsie replied, snorting slightly.

"Gossip then?"

The redhead sighed before waving her hands noncommittally. "Knock yourself out."

Squealing in delight at the prospect of her not-so-repressed adolescent tendencies being indulged, Kim racked her brain for an especially juicy tidbit. "You know, a certain brunette we all know and love got caught in a broom closet in a rather, how shall I put it, comprising position."

Though she initially planned on ignoring her friend's chatter, Elsie's interest was suddenly piqued. "Holly?" she asked, referring to another prominent behavioral paleontologist that happened to be a professional rival, as well as, in Elsie's opinion, a grade-A bitch.

Beaming, Kim nodded. "Yup. Little Miss Too-smart-for-Harvard bolted before she even smoothed her skirt."

Elsie laughed. "Who was the unlucky guy?"

Kim froze, realization creeping up on her. "Um, nobody," she stammered, hoping Elsie would drop it.

The perceptive scientist, however, wasn't fooled. Studying her friend's face for a moment, she finally said, "It's Lex, isn't it?"

Smiling apologetically, Kim nodded. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have brought it up."

Snorting, Elsie waved off her apology. "My biggest rival and my ex-husband together…I'm thrilled."

"You are?" Jimmy asked, returning from the communications tent.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Elsie asked. "Trust me, they of all people deserve each other."

Jimmy shrugged. "Well yeah, but I thought you might be kind of upset, seeing as we haven't seen you with a gu-OW!" he cried as Kim stomped soundly on his foot.

"If you know what's good for you kid," she threatened, "you'll get back to work." After the grad student sheepishly obeyed, Kim turned back to Elsie. "You ok?"

"I don't know," came the defeated reply. "It's been close to two years and all, and I definitely don't still have feelings for him…"

"But it just sucks seeing him with her, right?" Kim finished for her.

"Right. It's not because my love life is currently deader than Ben Affleck's career," she quickly replied.

"Well if you're going to be so optimistic about it…" Kim chuckled. "What about one of our Latino dreams over there?" she suggested, gesturing towards the current find.

Elsie quirked an eyebrow. "Bit young for me, don't you think?"

"If I recall correctly you've always had an interest in younger men," Kim retorted.

Shaking her head at both the references Kim had and hadn't intended to make, Elsie only said, "Word of advice: stick to paleontology. You're horrible when it comes to…" she trailed off as the sound of Jimmy's babbling once again made itself audible. "What now?" she groaned.

The young man peeked into the large tent. "Turn to channel seven."

"There's no TV in here," Elsie answered, maintaining an air of boredom.

"Well then come on," Jimmy said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the communications tent. Gesturing to the TV, he commented, "Creepy, isn't it? Over thirty people have died and they still don't have a clue as to what the thing is."

Elsie squinted at screen. "Costa Rica?"

Kim nodded. "I've heard about this. Some sneaky mutant bastard's been chomping on villagers after dark."

Only the sound of the on-air reporter could be heard for a moment, until Elsie broke the pseudo-silence. "That's too bad."

"Well?" Jimmy asked, regarding the quick-witted woman expectantly.

"Well what?" she responded.

"What is it?"

Elsie shrugged. "How should I know?"

"You used to work on this sort of thing for a living, didn't you?" he asked, confused.

"Keywords: used to," Elsie replied. "That's none of my business now."

Raising an eyebrow, Kim inquired, "You think the national governments are doing a good job?"

"No," Elsie said, "but a lot of other people who have no interest in this agree with me."

Jimmy was quiet for a second. "So you really don't want to get involved that sort of thing again?"

"No more than the average person," Elsie shrugged. "Why?"

Biting his lip, Jimmy's eyes trailed to a nearby table. "Well then you're not going to like the fax we just got…"

* * *

---Gulf of Mexico--- 

The steady hum of the plane was in the process of lulling many of its occupants to sleep, which in Kelly Marsen's opinion, was not such a bad idea. The search for _el monstruo_ had once again ended fruitless, leaving the participants completely and utterly exhausted. Whatever the predator was, it had become a master at discreetly picking off victims, only to leave chewed up leftovers on the beach before absconding without a trace. The International Taskforce for Control of the Mutant Population, fondly nicknamed the M-Force by a few of the younger agents, had spent countless hours in Costa Rica, attempting to solve the mystery of the mutant carnivore.

For all their work, they had very little to show. Common sense told them the creature was nocturnal, as it only fed at night. The attacks were spaced irregularly, occurring two days to two weeks apart. The Costa Rican government was having a fit, as not only was its population being picked off as a tasty meal, but its tourism industry was all but dead. It went without saying that residents, let alone visitors, were reluctant to spend the night near the beach.

A fellow agent with wavy, dark brown hair collapsed into the seat next to her. "I'm beat. Is it too late to quit the force?"

The African-American smiled good-naturedly. "No, but don't be discouraged. Think of how _rewarding _it is to know you make a difference in the lives of people around the world."

"I'm starting to wonder if we actually make a difference," Tatiyana Petrova lamented, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face. "Muties have been popping up faster than the M-Force can handle them."

Kelly shook her head. "Just because we're on a tight schedule doesn't mean it's that way for everyone." She jerked her head in the direction a closed cabin. "After all, we've got them."

The corners of the Russian woman's lips curved upwards. "Think they're fighting again?"

"Hicks yelled at some little Costa Rican kid," Kelly responded. "Though I doubt anything like that is the real reason they've been biting each other's heads off lately."

"Wanna listen?" Tatiyana suggested, eyes glowing mischievously.

Eyes widening, Kelly looked like she had just suggested they plant a bomb at the base of the cabin door. "We have to respect their privacy."

"Right, right," the brunette sighed. "You're too much of, how do you say, a 'goody-goody.'"

"I just have manners is all," Kelly began as the door to the adjacent cabin opened.

"I'm sorry you don't feel this is quite urgent enough Major," a voice hissed. "I guess we'll talk when the death toll rolls over fifty." The voice's owner appeared in the doorway before sliding the cabin door shut and sinking into a nearby plane seat.

"Ooh," Tatiyana murmured. "Called him 'Major.' He's mad."

Discreetly fixing her eyes on the figure that was now hunched over a laptop, Kelly nodded. "He probably has reason to be."

Tatiyana leaned back into her seat, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the other woman's statement. Instead, she smirked impishly at her. "Go cheer him up."

For the twentieth time that month, the thirty-year-old was thankful her caramel complexion did not betray too much of a blush. "No, I…I think he wants to be left alone."

Huffing in exasperation, Tatiyana fixed her friend with a pointed stare. "I'm not telling you to go jump in his lap, I'm telling you to just say hi."

"We've said hi," Kelly said lamely.

"You know what I mean," the Russian replied, before pausing. "He likes you, you know."

"Really? Wait, what-"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Tatiyana interrupted. "You act like it's the end of the world, but on almost every flight you get up and spend at least twenty minutes in the seat next to his."

Kelly bit her lip. "We're just talking."

"And talking's a start…" Tatiyana trailed off, making it clear that she wouldn't let up.

Groaning, Kelly relented. "Alright, alright, I'll do it. Just stop bugging me." She got up to seemingly stretch her legs for a good five minutes, until a solid smack from Tatiyana forced her to finally make her way down the aisle to her final destination. Clearing her throat, she managed a modest "Hey, Nick."

Nick Tatopoulos glanced up from his computer screen. "Hi Kel. What's up?"

"Not much," she replied, awkwardly scratching the back of her leg with her foot. Though she had been gifted with exceptional intelligence and athleticism, she found herself lacking when it came to social graces. "Um…"

Staring at her for a moment, a look of realization dawned on Nick's face. "Did you want to sit down?"

"Yeah, that'd be good," came the grateful reply, as Kelly hadn't planned exactly how she wanted this to go.

Nick picked his laptop up and scooted down one seat, allowing his colleague to ease herself into the aisle seat. Allowing her a moment to settle in, he pressed on. "So what's going on?"

"Nothing much with me," Kelly replied. "What about you? You and Hicks didn't seem to be having a friendly chat in there."

"Was it that obvious?" Nick asked wearily.

A mute nod was his only reply.

"Well, we're not the best of friends right now," he began, choosing his words carefully, as he didn't want to inadvertently start any wild rumors. "I mean, we can still work together and all, but lately we just haven't been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things."

Kelly nodded. "That's understandable. After working with someone for so long, there's bound to be conflict."

Laughing, Nick replied, "Trust me, this whole 'conflict' thing with Hicks and me is nothing new."

"Right," Kelly agreed, though she didn't know all that much about whatever history existed between the two men. Deciding against pressing the issue further, she changed the subject. "What are you working on?"

"Just looking over some photos of the Costa Rican site," he answered, turning the laptop slightly so she could see. He pressed the right-arrow a few times. "Also looking over some shots locals managed to get of our friend."

A dark, shadowy figure could be seen among moist vegetation. Kelly scrutinized the picture carefully. "Is it flying?"

"Maybe," Nick cautiously said. "We can't be sure it's not just temporarily airborne."

Kelly leaned closer to the screen before turning back towards Nick. "Are you going back anytime soon?"

"Apparently not," he muttered, clearly unhappy. "The higher-ups have some other business they want me to attend to."

"You're technically not a part of the force though," Kelly offered. "Couldn't you tell them to buzz off?"

"I wouldn't say I'm not a part of it," Nick clarified. "True I'm not a full-fledged agent, but I've spent so much time working with the force that it wouldn't make sense to say I'm totally independent."

"Did you used to be?"

Nick was quiet for a moment. "Well, not really. I never worked solo. But yes, there was a time when I didn't answer to generals, heads of state, and god-knows-who-else."

"You don't have to," Kelly said softly.

"I do," Nick gently replied. "Or at least, I have to if I want to have any influence on the world's mutant-related actions and policies."

Kelly nodded. She could respect that. Fingering one of her braids, she glanced over at Nick. "I heard you're not being dropped off at the same place we are. Where are you headed?"

"I have a…business meeting of sorts in New York," Nick answered. "With one of our biggest corporate sponsors. After that, I'm supposedly off to eastern Germany, where an overgrown tomcat has been wreaking havoc. But before I go to either of those, I thought I'd pay someone a visit…" he trailed off. Unconsciously, he ran his thumb over a gold band on his ring finger.

The act didn't go unnoticed by Kelly. "You miss her, don't you?"

Remaining silent for a minute, he finally managed an honest answer. "I don't think I'll ever stop missing her."

Letting out a small, bitter laugh, Kelly seemed to deflate. "Right." She fidgeted for a moment before getting up. "Well, I've bothered you enough for one flight."

"You don't have to-" Nick began, feeling guilty for making her feel uncomfortable.

"I think it's best I did," Kelly replied quietly before making her way back to her seat.

Nick watched Kelly hurriedly make herself scarce before sighing. He didn't mean to push her away like that. Heck, he didn't even realize he was pushing her away, as for the longest time he hadn't been aware that Kelly's interest in him went beyond 'friendly.'

Apparently, however, it did, and Kelly's reaction erased any lingering doubts in Nick's mind. His eyes dropped down to the gold band guilty for the awkward moment. One that more than a few people had told him he should take off. It wasn't that he hadn't tried; he just didn't feel right without it on. Almost like he was insulting her memory by removing it.

But would really be an insult? If he had been the one to meet an untimely end, as was quite possible given his line of work, he'd certainly want her to move on. And in spite of himself, a little voice in the back of his head told him she'd have absolutely no problem doing so. They always did view their relationship differently. It was almost a role-reversal of sorts, with him pushing for commitment while she preferred to first treat herself to all life offered. After years of a dizzy, tangled courtship, however, they had finally settled down, or at least as much as their jobs allowed them.

Not that they'd had a lot of time to enjoy it. Only two years, seven months, and 14 days – but who was counting? Nick chuckled softly at himself. She'd been gone for nearly as long as they'd been married. Perhaps it _was_ time to finally slid the ring off his finger and find someone new.

His eyes inadvertently wandered to the dark-haired agent down the aisle. Kelly was nice. Smart. Pretty. Athletic. A relationship with her would surely be…well…

Convenient.

"Dr. Tatopoulos?" A timid voice interrupted his thoughts.

Shaking his head, Nick mentally scolded himself. He didn't have time to think about that sort of thing right now, especially considering new mutants had been popping up faster than even their international taskforce could keep up with. "Yes?"

"I'm Rich Reynolds," the young agent responded. "I'm supposed to accompany you to New York."

"Of course," Nick said, shaking his hand before gesturing to the neighboring seat. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?" he offered, before opening up a few files on his laptop. "Did you hear from the new tech expert yet?"

"No sir," Rich answered. "But he should be en route to New York as we speak, and if all goes well, will meet us there."

"Great," came the distracted reply as Nick poured over lines of text on his computer screen. "What was his name again? Jonah Ravine?"

"Levine," Rich corrected. "Supposedly brilliant, but not the easiest guy to work with."

A soft chuckle escaped the older man's lips. "You think some hotshot tech-head is hard to work with," he began, eyeing his temporary partner sympathetically, "just wait till our meeting at Solstice Technologies."

---End Chapter One---

Hmm, a little less confusing now? In case anyone's wondering about pairings, well no one will get divorced over the course of the fic, so that should make one couple clear. Other than that…we'll see. ;-) And just where is Godzilla? That'll be explained next chapter. Review please – your comments motivate me to keep going.


	3. 2: The Past Sneaks up on the Present

**Comments and Reviewer Notes:** Thanks to dolphinology and US RANGER for reviewing Chapter One. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. I was hoping where the characters were in the future would make sense, since that would make this fic a vast improvement over my previous, challenge-inspired take on HEAT's future.

This chapter is longer than the first, so hopefully that will explain a bit of the extra wait.

When Even Hindsight is Clouded

Chapter Two: The Past Sneaks up on the Present

---Cambridge, Massachusetts---

The bell that hung over the cracked glass door of the Java Hut clanged as two men sporting overcoats and briefcases shuffled inside, escaping the chill of a New England autumn morning. A waitress raised an eyebrow at the odd couple that settled into a round, window-side table. The younger of the two, a brown-haired twenty-something that would've been rather handsome were it not for his oversized nose, exhibited signs of hyperactivity, no doubt a product of excited anticipation. His companion, a blond man in his forties, exuded wariness as he looked around, undoubtedly unhappy to be there.

Ignoring the curious looks that suddenly sauntered their way, Jonah smacked his metal briefcase on the tabletop with a grace befitting an elephant. Mendel winced in response, wishing desperately that he could crawl under the maple table to escape the stares that only increased with the ruckus.

"Oh don't look so mortified," Jonah flippantly addressed Mendel, "I'm used to this."

The blond could only stare incredulously. "Well it's great that _you're_ used to being stared at like you're some kind of noisy freak, but I'm definitely not."

"Really? Well that's quite a surprise." Jonah ribbed.

Mendel's mouth only opened and closed before he set his features in a scowl. "You know I didn't agree to this little outing of your's just so I could be insulted." At the moment, Mendel couldn't quite remember why he had agreed in the first place. Coffee had sounded harmless enough, but considering he would be getting said coffee with Jonah Levine, he should have known better.

"No, you're right," Jonah acknowledged. "I was just having a little fun with you is all."

"Why is it that everyone who's ever known me equates teasing with 'fun,'" Mendel muttered darkly.

"You're an easy target Doc," the younger man answered, ignoring the rhetorical nature of the question. "But like I said, I didn't ask you to join me in this lovely little café to tease you."

"Of course," Mendel sighed, realizing the moment he had irrationally hoped to avoid had arrived. "So this is where you tell me about that proposition of your's, right?"

"You sure one of your many talents isn't telepathy?" Jonah grinned. "You're exactly right."

"You're predictable," came the bored reply as the robotist laid an elbow on the table and rested his face in one hand.

"I'd have to disagree, but then again, this isn't about me." Jonah stated.

"Amazing," Mendel said dryly. "You're concerned about something besides yourself."

"Spend more time with me and you'll find all sorts of surprises," Jonah good-naturedly replied.

"I'd rather not."

"I'm sorry to hear that," came the muffled response as Jonah leaned under the table to pick up a cardboard menu that had fallen to the floor. "But by the time we leave here, you may have changed your mind." He gestured to the listed specials. "You want anything?"

"No thanks," Mendel declined, glancing at his watch. He wished Jonah would just hurry up and explain this whole thing to him so he could say no – he had promised his mother he'd call after his presentation at the symposium.

The up-and-coming technology expert shrugged. "Your loss." He then waved a nearby waiter over. "Could I get a blueberry muffin and a cup of the Kenyan roast please?" The server nodded before scurrying away to file his order. "You know the coffee here is simply divine and they keep this nice little intimate atmosphere going – impressive considering it's a national franchise."

Mendel lazily traced the edge of the table with his finger, deciding Jonah needed more of a push before he'd quit stalling. "That's great. So are you going to tell me why we're here?"

"Oh I know exactly why I'm here." Jonah fixed Mendel with a stare. "The question is, why are you here?"

Sighing, Mendel replied, "I'm here because you wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to come."

"And that may be partially true," Jonah mused. "But there's more. My mention of using NIGEL in mutant-control couldn't help but pique your interest, because deep down, you miss your old life."

"Miss what?" Mendel snorted. "Being chased by bloodthirsty mutants, having to rebuild NIGEL every week, or having the military constantly breathe down my neck?"

"I'm sure there were other necks the military was huffing and puffing on more," the younger man replied. "And you won't get anywhere if you just focus on the bad."

"Really?" Mendel asked, genuine interest flaring up. "I should keep that in mind."

The corners of Jonah's lips quirked slightly before he checked his watch. "Alright, I'm running out of time here, so I'll make the rest of this quick."

'Finally,' Mendel thought, sitting up a bit straighter.

"About two weeks ago the government contacted me on behalf of the International Taskforce for Control of the Mutant Population." Jonah paused. "Are you familiar with it?"

"The M-Force," the blond nodded. "I know a thing or two about it."

"Great, then that saves me a few minutes of explanation," Jonah said in relief before continuing. "They've secured a multi-billion dollar contract with one of their regular contractors for cutting-edge anti-mutant technology."

Nothing out of the ordinary there. "So where do you come in?"

"I'm getting to it," Jonah replied. "The head honchos were rather impressed by the prototypes this contractor offered. Thing is, none of them had enough experience or know-how to understand exactly what each of them would be capable of. Solution? Call in an expert to evaluate this new technology's value beyond being shiny and haphazardly blowing stuff up."

"And they called you?" Mendel gaped.

"Hey I'm more well-known than you and many of your colleagues give me credit for." Jonah moved his briefcase out of his way so a waiter could place his muffin and coffee on the table. Taking a hearty sip of the Kenyan blend, he sighed in content. "You really should've tried this, Doc."

Ignoring the culinary advice, Mendel tried to figure out exactly where the enigmatic man was going. "How do I figure into this?"

Placing the oversize mug down on the table, Jonah dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "Well I'm not one to downplay my own expertise, but I'll admit I don't have much practical experience when it comes to this sort of thing." He broke off a piece of the muffin and chewed it before continuing. "I was already in town for the symposium and noticed you were listed as keynote speaker." Jonah shrugged. "Got the call when I just happened to be in town with one of the world's leading robotics experts, who by an off chance also used to chase mutants for a living. Call it fate."

"I call it an unfortunate coincidence," Mendel sighed, finally able to piece together what Jonah wanted.

"I take it you've unearthed my intentions then," Jonah bubbled happily. "What say you come along and help me out? You'd be doing a service to your country."

"Serving Uncle Sam isn't one of my top priorities right now," the robotics expert asserted. "And how do you know they'd even let me come along?"

"Considering they've been pestering you to work with them for years? I don't think they'd mind if you volunteered your services."

Mendel bit his lip, searching for more excuses. "I have classes."

Green eyes sparkled. "Nice try. I know you're on sabbatical to focus on your research."

"Fine," Mendel conceded, throwing away all pretenses. "Then I just don't want to do it."

Jonah nodded. "Well at least you're being honest. But just think about it for a second. What have you got to lose?"

"I can't even begin to list how many ways I could finish that sentence," the blond deadpanned.

"I'm not asking you to join the M-Force or anything like that," Jonah proceeded carefully. "I'm just asking you to meet with me, the contractor, and some representatives of the force."

Raising an eyebrow, Mendel asked, "Which representatives?"

The twenty-seven year old shrugged. "They didn't say. Does it matter?"

"It might," Mendel mumbled in reply before sighing. "You're not going to let up on this, are you?"

"I'm asking for two, maybe three hours tops," Jonah said encouragingly. "Well, that and the plane ride down to New York. You could fly back to Pittsburgh from JFK when this is all done."

Remaining silent for a long while, Mendel contemplated his options. He could always turn the irritating young know-it-all down. But that would probably spurn stalker-like tendencies, as Jonah wasn't known for letting go of a goal once he set his eyes on it. And it wasn't like there was anything particularly urgent waiting for him in Pennsylvania.

"Alright," the blond relented. "But I'm only agreeing to this meeting with the contractor. Nothing more," he said, stressing every word.

"No problem," Jonah eagerly replied as he motioned for his check. Dropping the required amount of money on the hard maple top, he grinned at his contemporary. "Now no more dawdling. We've got a plane to catch."

* * *

---New York, New York--- 

Thick mud squished beneath boots as a splattering of raindrops fell from the sky, enveloping what should have been a cheerful autumn morning in a dreary, cold, blanket. Leaves, soaked with polluted rainwater, clung to jackets and the undersides of shoes, only leaving their perch whenever a hand braved the mud and the chill to remove it. A small child, naïve as to the implications of her current whereabouts, gleefully played in the natural shower, sticking her tongue out to catch the rain until a stern arm yanked her back into place alongside her deadly quiet family.

Richard Reynolds loosened his grip on his umbrella as he checked his watch. "We have about fifteen minutes to spare," he said. "You sure that's enough?"

"It'll have to be," Nick absently replied, eyes focused on some unidentifiable point on the looming hilltop. He clutched the bouquet of recently purchased flowers in his left hand, a black umbrella occupying his right. "Wait here."

Having no choice but to do as he was told, Rich could only watch Nick try to pull his dark overcoat tighter around himself as he ascended up the hill.

The former oligochaetologist ignored the dull ache in his legs as he pushed himself up the slippery slope, occasionally having to pause to regain his balance when his feet slid backwards. Upon reaching the apex, tired blue eyes searched among the chillingly familiar markings for the one they desired. Finding his goal, Nick slowly made his way towards it, dreading what loomed before him, yet nonetheless longing to be there.

Kneeling, he discarded the umbrella, numb to the torrents that now soaked him. He stayed silent for a minute, collecting his thoughts before taking a deep breath. "I know I haven't come to see you in a while. I'm sorry. Work's been crazy, though you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

No response met his words. Assuming his sanity was fully in place, however, he had no reason to expect one. Instead, he only ran his gloved fingers over the engraving on the smooth stone surface.

_Audrey Timmonds-Tatopoulos_

_1977-2008_

"I don't have a lot of time to spend with you today," he apologized, "but I thought I should come here anyway." He smiled bitterly. "Our anniversary is in two weeks, and I don't know that I'll even be Stateside for it. Would've been five years. That's the 'wooden' anniversary." He paused thoughtfully. "We probably would have gotten that townhouse by now, so furniture would be an appropriate gift." A rueful smile decorated his features. "Though I would have had to consult you before buying anything rather than try to surprise you. You always were better at the sort of thing."

Nick swallowed hard, mentally forcing himself away from thoughts of what could have been. He'd never be able to move on if he kept painting a vivid mental picture of what could have been his life with Audrey. "Enough about that. I…well, I guess I could fill you in on what's been going on with me."

The gentle patter of rain filled the ensuing silence and Nick wondered why he even bothered to pause while speaking to her. "Life with the force has been…well, same old same old to a certain extent. You've listened to enough of my ranting about that." A dry chuckle escaped his lips before his air of gravity returned. "But something's different. Tony – he's different."

Nick sighed, the weight of the current murkiness that clouded his life combining with his grief to form an anchor in his chest. "We used to trust each other. We weren't the best of friends, and we didn't always agree, but I knew I could trust him. I knew he would never keep anything from me, especially after I started working so closely with the M-Force."

Biting his lip, the widower continued. "Now…now I don't think that's the case. I don't think Tony, or the higher-ups in the force, are being straightforward with me, and I can't imagine why." He paused. "This may sound morbid, but I'm hoping it's just because the 'mutant problem' as they like to call it has been increasing by orders of magnitude in the past few months. He may just be stressed, and he may not be able to relay every single new development to me."

A scowl suddenly appeared. "That still doesn't explain why he has me running errands and wooing sponsors rather than doing field-work lately." A light laugh. "Guess I wouldn't be much help when it comes to getting you the exciting inside scoops right now." He mulled over that last statement, anticipating Audrey's answer. "I know I don't have to answer to him, but I feel like I have no choice."

The beeping of his watch alerted him to the passing of the hour. He ignored it, staring intently at his wife's tombstone instead. "I'm worried, Dre. I'm worried that the mutant population is getting out of control, and that if I sour my ties to the people with the authority to take care of it, I'll be stuck on the sidelines with everyone else. My views will mixed in with those of anyone who's ever known enough about this to form an opinion." He drew in a ragged breath. "I can't let that happen. I owe it to too many people to not give up. I…I owe it to Godzilla, too."

He closed his eyes for a moment, memories of another painful loss flashing before him. "I may not have a lot of influence, but I have something, and that's what matters." His eyes moved heavenward for a moment, as he searched the sky for nothing in particular. "It's just that…it's hard. I can feel everything I've worked for these past eight years slipping away from me, and I don't know what to do." Nick faced the grave once again, and a passerby would have trouble telling if the streaks on his cheeks came from the rain, or recently shed tears. "I need you, Audrey. I've needed you this whole time. I can't do this alone." He took in another deep breath, eyes blinking furiously. "God knows I've tried, but it just doesn't work. One person doesn't have the power to take on our own government on this matter, let alone the combined strength of every developed nation."

His lips quirked in an odd smile. "One person doesn't, but two people might've. At least when one of those people has the power of the press behind them."

An abrupt ringtone suddenly cut through the air, as Nick's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He opened it up, finding a text message from Rich, politely but firmly reminding him about the time. "Right," he murmured before turning towards his lady's final resting place. "I'm going to have to cut this short."

Placing the flowers at her tombstone, Nick forced himself back to his feet and shook remnants of muddied leaves off his previously discarded umbrella. Though he appeared to be ready to leave his deceased wife for the moment, Nick remained rooted to the ground. His cell phone vibrated again, no doubt the result of Rich getting impatient. Nick, however, might as well have not felt it, as he had centered his entire being on the slate-grey stone structure in front of him. As of its own volition, his hand made its way to the pocket of his coat, retrieving a small, metallic item.

Cerulean eyes studied the object intently, despite having already memorized every aspect of its appearance. It was a circular charm of sorts, made of tarnished silver that had lost any luster it once possessed. In the middle of a thin halo lay the shape of a flame, so intricately detailed one could almost feel the heat from its core. He ran his thumb over its surface, the grief within him sinking to be replaced by vengeful anger.

It wasn't even her fault. Audrey had been away on assignment, and not wanting to spend the night in a van filled with broadcasting equipment, had opted to stay in a small motel for the night. Unfortunately for her, the room next door housed an FBI agent on the trail of a notorious, international crime ring. And said crime ring was not about to let anyone get the best of them.

Exactly what had happened was merely an educated guess on the part of the police, since there were no witnesses to the actual crime, and Audrey had been staying alone. From what they could gather from the crime scene, the assassin ran into a bit of trouble in eliminating the threatening federal agent. The chaos found in the agent's room could only point to a noisy struggle, which undoubtedly roused the curious reporter to step outside her room.

Her natural inquisitiveness, combined with ill-fated timing, would prove to be her undoing. Audrey found herself in the hall just as the battered assassin slumped into the hall, the agent lying dead on the floor behind her. Any criminal knew enough to eliminate those that had any grounds on which to incriminate them, and a petite reporter, no matter how tenacious, was no match for a trained killing machine.

Nick's fist clenched around the metal ring, his gloves preventing the sharply cut item from slicing into his skin. It just wasn't fair. Audrey was no threat to them; rather, she had been an unfortunate victim of circumstance and carelessness on the part of the assassin. If those sons of bitches had had the common sense to-

"Dr. Tatopoulos?" Rich had giving up on the cell-phone tactic and instead opted to scale the hilltop to personally retrieve the biologist.

Shaking his head, Nick used every ounce of willpower he could possibly call upon to return to a clearheaded state of mind. "I know. I'm sorry about this."

Rich stared at the rainwater-glazed tombstone before answering. "It's ok. But we really need to be going."

"Right," Nick said, taking a few steps backwards before turning. "Solstice headquarters isn't far, but we're to rendez-vous with Dr. Levine a block away."

"In front of a bookstore," Rich added, though he knew Nick probably remembered. He paused. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Nick called over his shoulder, any traces of emotion erased. "Let's get moving. We don't want to keep the lovely folks at Solstice Technologies waiting."

The dark-haired agent regarded the retreating figure skeptically. He decided, however, to keep any opinions to himself and followed in Nick's footsteps, pausing only to pay one last glance to the drenched bouquet, whose previously vibrant petals now drooped from the weight of an infinite number of stormcloud tears.

* * *

---Argentina--- 

"What fax?" Elsie asked, surprise on her face mixed with apprehension.

"This one," Jimmy replied, picking up a small piece of paper. "It doesn't say who it's from."

Kim snatched the paper out of his hands before reading it aloud. "Dr. Chapman, I apologize for my inability to deliver this request in person, but other engagements require my attention for the time-being. I'm sure you are aware of the current going-ons in Costa Rica. If you would perhaps be able to pause your paleontological studies to assist me, I would be forever in your debt."

Elsie regarded Jimmy critically. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The grad student shook his head insistently. "No, I swear it isn't." He grinned at her. "Kinda cool though isn't it? A mystery man sending you a cryptic note all the way out here."

Raising an eyebrow, Kim asked, "How do you know it's a man?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Wording sounds like it was written by some upper-class stooge."

Ignoring him, Elsie took the fax from Kim. "There's a phone number."

"To call them back I assume," Kim said, eyeing the note. "Want me to go get the satellite phone?"

"No," Elsie replied, haphazardly dropping the fax back onto a nearby table.

Shocked, Jimmy looked at her in dismay. "Aren't you going to call them back?"

"Why should I?" Elsie asked. "Whoever this is expects me to just drop everything here to grant them some kind of personal favor."

"They may have lost someone in Costa Rica," Kim offered gently. "They probably just want closure."

Elsie sighed. "It's not that I don't have sympathy for anyone like that, but what can I do?"

"You should at least call him back to say no," Jimmy pushed. "It would be rude not to."

"Kid's right," Kim agreed. "You never know, this could be a potential or even current sponsor. You don't want to burn any bridges, especially when said bridges are lined with gold."

"Money isn't an issue," Elsie lied, pulling out the stops to avoid following up on the enigmatic note. "And I don't care if I'm rude."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "What are you so afraid of?"

A pair of red eyebrows climbed Elsie's forehead in indignation. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then why won't you call them back?" he asked skeptically.

"Because…" Elsie trailed off, racking her mind for how to finish that sentence.

"Because you're afraid that if you actually talk to them, they may have a chance of convincing you?" Kim offered, reading her friend like an open book.

"No," the redhead shot back. "I have my reasons. Thing is, I don't have to share them with you."

Ignoring the barb, Kim regressed to a more gentle type of prodding. "You don't even know what they want. Can't you just call them and find out?"

Elsie relented. "Fine. I'll give them a more direct rejection." She picked up the satellite phone and started to dial before she realized she still had an audience. "That is, I'll give them a more direct rejection after two little eavesdroppers give me some privacy."

Kim groaned good-naturedly while Jimmy gave her a curious look. "Why? It's not like you're calling your boyfriend or something."

"C'mon kiddo," Kim intervened before Elsie could say anything. "We've got work to do."

Rolling her eyes at Kim's departing wink, Elsie dialed the number on the fax and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" came an airy, female voice on the other end.

"Yeah, hi," Elsie began, wondering if Jimmy's hunch on the sender's gender had been wrong. "My name Elsie Chapman, and I received a fax asking me to call this number."

"Dr. Chapman?" came the surprised reply. "Oh wow, Mr. Worthington didn't think you'd call back."

Elsie snorted slightly. "Well that's one thing we've got in common."

"Um, ok," the young woman replied, slightly confused.

A few beats of silence passed before Elsie finally became impatient. "Well? Is anyone planning on telling me what all this is about?"

"Oh!" the voice on the other line exclaimed. "Oh right. You don't know, do you?"

Rubbing her temples, the paleontologist simply agreed. "No, I don't."

"Huh. That's too bad."

Exhaling in frustration, Elsie contemplated just hanging up. "Is there a way I could find out?"

"Oh of course," came the enthusiastic reply. "Mr. Worthington would be more than happy to tell you!"

"Great," Elsie said. Another long pause. "Can I talk to him?" she asked, gritting her teeth at the other's woman's denseness.

"Umm…"

The redhead sighed. "Is there a problem?"

"Well um…yeah."

Catching on to the fact that she couldn't rely on implied questions, Elsie pressed on. "And that is?"

"He's not here right now."

"Wonderful," Elsie muttered. "May I ask where exactly he is?" She listened as the other voice chattered away when her eyes suddenly widened. "He's _what?_"

"Elsie, er, Dr. Chapman, whatever!" Jimmy's voice called. "I think you should get out here!"

"Could you excuse me?" Elsie quickly said, hanging up before she could get a reply. Hurrying out of the tent, she froze in shock at the scene before her.

Her teammates scurried around the dig site, throwing coverings over the skeleton and uncovered bones and running into nearby tents for shelter. Dust clouded the air as the deafening beat of helicopter blades rang in her ears. "What's going on?" she yelled, covering her face with her left arm.

"I don't know!" Kim yelled back, before gesturing to the landing helicopter. "I don't even know who this is!"

Jogging over to the aircraft that was busy stabilizing itself, Elsie waved her arms. "This is a private dig! You can't…" she trailed off, as she caught the "Worthington Enterprises" painted across the helicopter and a portly old gentleman opened the door, smiling cheerfully at her. Realization sinking in, only a choice set of words escaped Elsie's lips.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

* * *

---New Jersey--- 

A discordant medley of revving motors and indignant honks echoed off the interstate's sound barriers, protecting the ears of nearby residents, but only magnifying the discomfort of hassled drivers. One rolled down his window to scream profanities at a particularly reckless traveler while another crossed four lanes of traffic in ten seconds, allowing him to barely squeak into his exit lane.

In the midst of the rush hour chaos, a discrete black Lincoln smoothly made its way through the endless traffic, careful to obey each and every traffic law, including the speed limit. Such behavior may lead an outside observer viewing the occupants of such a vehicle as model drivers, if not model citizens. That observer, however, would be blissfully ignorant of the true motivations behind the painstakingly law-abiding driving.

Inside the vehicle, a red-haired vixen crossed her legs and regarded the car's other passenger coolly. "Did you get the details of your assignment?"

"_Pas encore_," came the equally cool reply. "But if you are ready to brief me, I assume we are close."

Blood red lips curved upwards but did not reveal the pearly whites that lay underneath. "Smart girl." She looked out the dark, tinted windows. "We'll be in the city in about twenty minutes."

"Newark?"

"New York."

A tense silence settled over the backseat of the car as the raven-haired woman let the information sink in. She hadn't visited that former residence of her's for a while. "Who is it?"

"Who indeed," the other woman laughed. "Someone rather important."

"Such as…?"

"We've got time," the redhead smirked. "Why don't you guess?"

Dark brown eyes narrowed threateningly. "I do not have time for games, Emerald."

"Well I do, my dear," Emerald replied. "And I also happen to know the details of your new mission, which I have every right to keep from you should I for any reason believe you are not capable of carrying it out."

_La Minuit, _or Midnight, grit her teeth before resigning herself to the older woman's riddles. "Political?"

"Corporate."

"Famous?"

"I assure you," Emerald began, "if you are successful, everyone will be talking."

The younger woman tilted her head. "Infamous, then?"

"Considering how many enemies he's made, I suppose that's the only way to describe him," Emerald replied airily.

Musing over this new information for a second, Midnight continued. "Who is the client?"

"Ah-ah-ah," the fellow agent chastised. "You know I can't reveal that."

"It would help in this little guessing game of your's," she answered.

"That it would," Emerald acknowledged. "But I still can't tell you."

"Fine," the junior agent replied, already bored. "Then I see no reason to continue."

Staring at her for a moment, Emerald let a little bit of classified information slip. "I can't reveal any identities, but let's just say our client stands to gain a lot from the target's death."

Well that was usually to be expected. Nevertheless, Midnight decided to indulge her. "Money? Power?"

Emerald grinned. "Curious little thing, aren't you? If you must know, it's both."

Made sense. Tackling a high profile assignment involved risks for both the assassin and the client. The Ring of Fire would never take such missions lightly, as failure meant certain ruin for the organization. Serious payoffs had to be in line for everyone involved. Well everyone except the unfortunate victim.

Jade eyes surveyed the outside surroundings. "We're closer than I thought," Emerald announced. Retrieving a small folder from a hidden compartment, she tossed the mission file over to her colleague. "Might as well give this to you now, in case you have any questions."

The less experienced assassin carefully read through the sparse documents contained within, eyebrows rising once she caught wind of the target's name. This would be her most-high profile case ever. Federal agents would surely be on both her's and the Ring's tail for years if she was successful. "How long do I have?"

"Hm?" Emerald asked, a bored expression on her face. "The client didn't say. Get it done fast."

The brusqueness of her reply was not lost on Midnight. "Mario assigned me to this?" she asked, referring to the leader of the Ring.

"Yes he did," Emerald bitterly replied. "Though I can't see why."

Lips coated in black lipstick smirked. "You think you would be better for this particular assignment?"

Cocking her head to one side, the senior agent took on a condescending air. "Of course I would. I simply don't have time for it." She lowered her eyelids dramatically. "Running the Ring can be rather trying, you know."

"_Bien sûr_. I just thought the compensation that must accompany such an assignment might lure you away from your 'very pressing' administrative duties." She smiled sweetly at the older woman. "Everyone knows brewing Mario's coffee can be extremely difficult."

Red lips twisted into an ugly scowl. "If you're saying I'm just his secretary-"

"Of course not," Midnight interrupted, feigning distraction. "Your duties go far beyond that of a secretary, as it's widely known that you attend to his, how should I say, more primal needs as well."

Emerald's eyes widened. "Are you calling me some kind of whore?"

"I do not believe I called you anything," the raven-haired woman replied dryly before returning to staring out the window, her repressed emotions in turbulence. The importance of the assignment, combined with Emerald's obvious jealousy, indubitably meant she was moving up in the ranks of the Ring. Were she a normal assassin, she would be thrilled. Targeting big to-do's certainly meant more risk, but a greater risk implied greater reward, as well as increased prestige and power within the Ring. If she succeeded in her current assignment, anyone who did not already know her name in the Ring of Fire would definitely become familiar with the black cat motif.

But the fact of the matter remained – she was not a normal assassin. She had not been inducted into the Ring by any ordinary means, and her motivations for maintaining her current lifestyle were probably not shared by any of her fellow agents. At times she wondered if she could erase it all and leave the entire Ring behind. Maybe go back and change just a few seconds of her past. Those moments of daydream, however, were always cut short by the nature of her reality. Whether or not she wanted to stay was inconsequential. She was an agent of the Ring of Fire, and she would remain so until the day she died.

"We're here." Emerald's voice cut into her thoughts, forcing her to focus her eyes on what lay beyond the tinted glass of the Lincoln. High-rise buildings towered above her as they reached to the heavens, a testament to the simultaneously hopeful and arrogant nature of humanity.

Gesturing to the driver to stop, Emerald fixed _la minuit_ with one last stare. "We'll drop you off here. Remember it. It's where we'll pick you up." With a snap of her slender fingers, the door popped open.

Taking the hint, the dark-haired agent gracefully exited the vehicle, instantly transformed from deadly assassin to just another face in the crowd. Brown eyes took in her surroundings, memories of years past flashing before her as a familiar landmark caught her eye.

"Quit dawdling and get to work," Emerald ordered sternly. "This won't be an easy job, even for you."

"I am aware of that," Midnight calmly replied, though her nerves were on end at the severity of her mission. If she failed, she could not only kiss the Ring goodbye, but most likely her freedom and her life as well. For even if the Feds did not catch her, the Ring most certainly would. And they had no time to be bothered with inconveniences such as due process.

"Well then act like it," the senior agent shot back. Sliding back into her seat, Emerald moved to shut the door when she paused. "You have three days. Don't mess up." With that, she slammed the door shut and the black Lincoln peeled away.

Placing the mission file into a sleek black briefcase, Midnight easily merged into the mass of New Yorkers rushing back and forth. 'If we were ever to meet again, Monsieur Winter,' she thought, sending a message that would never meet its recipient, 'I cannot say I expected it to be like this.'

* * *

---New Mexico--- 

"Zelcroft customer service, how may I help you?"

"I was running your financial calculator program and my computer screen just went totally blank."

"That's probably a hardware rather than software issue, but I can still help. Is it a blue screen or does it look like it's turned off?"

"Huh??"

"What color is the screen?"

"Not quite black; it's a kind of dark grey."

"Ok. Is the monitor on?"

"What's a monitor?"

"The TV part."

"Oh. I don't know."

"Look at the bottom of the monitor, er, TV. Is there a little green light on?"

"No, no light."

"Maybe a red or orange light then?"

"Nope, nothing."

"Ok. Do you see a power button for your monitor?"

"Power button?"

"A button that makes the TV turn on."

"Oh. Umm, I see some buttons."

"Do you know which one is the power button?"

"No."

"Do you see a small circle with a line through it?"

"What?? It's a square and there are no lines!"

"…Ok. Just push every button and see what happens."

"Alrighty then. Hm."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Yup."

"Alright, can you take a look at your CPU?"

"My _what??_"

"Your CPU, m'am."

"What in God's name is that?"

"The tall, rectangular part of your computer. It's what you put discs and stuff like that in."

"Ohh, you mean the engine?"

"Er, ok, sure."

"Oh thank goodness. I thought you were making a pass at me."

"Um, I assure you m'am, at Zolcroft we know to always maintain a high level of professionalism."

"That's nice to know. Because you know some people get their jollies from talking dirty on the phone."

"…Right. So can you look at the engine?"

"It's under my desk."

"Even so, can you look at it?"

"I think so…ok, I'm on the floor."

"Perfect, I guess. Can you see your computer?"

"I'm looking at it right now."

"Do you see any small lights?"

"No. It looks dead."

"I'm sure it's not. Do you know where the power button on your computer is?"

"Always with the power buttons. No, I don't know."

"Then how do you turn it on?"

"I never turn it off."

"That's not good for the computer."

"Oh no…do you think that's why it suddenly stopped working?"

"Maybe, but most likely, no. Press all the buttons on the CPU."

"Ok."

"Did anything happen?"

"No."

"And you pressed all the buttons?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then we're going to have to check the power supply. Can you reach behind the CPU and feel any wires?"

"Just a second. Alright, I feel some thick ones."

"Good. Do they all feel like they're plugged in?"

"Yeah, they do."

"Hmm, ok. I need you to put the phone down for a second so you can get a better view. Crawl under your desk if you need to and see if the wires are plugged into anything."

"Fine." Loud rustling and a few noisy bumps could be heard for a good while. "I'm back."

"Were the wires plugged in?"

"I don't know."

"…Why not?"

"Because it's too dark."

"Too dark?"

"Yeah. The lights are all off."

"Well then turn the lights on."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"There's a power outage."

A few seconds of absolute silence passed as the temporary tech support representative took in this new information, and the fact that he had spent twenty minutes on the call. "Mother-!"

-----------

"Now Mr. Hernandez, at Zolcroft, we strive to make our customers comfortable, make them feel special. After all, it's impossible to run a successful business if one's customers are unhappy."

Randy shifted uncomfortably in his leather seat, eyes darting around his supervisor's office. "I know, sir.

"Do you?" Mr. Niedermeyer asked, eyes narrowing. "Because I don't know why anyone would think a customer would enjoy being cursed at."

"I didn't curse _at_ her," the nervous employee replied. "I didn't even curse. I just said-"

"I know what you said, and I don't care to hear it repeated." The balding manager removed his glasses to increase the effectiveness of his glare. "It was more than inappropriate."

"But she called for tech support in the middle of a power outage," Randy pleaded. "Shouldn't the fact that she had to use her cell phone rather than her desk phone have clued her in?"

"Are you implying she's stupid?" Mr. Niedermeyer asked, expression critical.

"Well, no…"

"Because in addition to not enjoying spewed profanities, our customers also don't enjoy being made to feel stupid," Mr. Niedermeyer interrupted.

"I didn't make her feel stupid," Randy stated. "I was very patient with her the whole time."

"Obviously not patient enough," the supervisor flippantly replied before turning serious. "Mr. Hernandez, despite your excellence performance these past two years, this incident forces me to seriously reconsider the terms of your employment."

"In my defense, sir," Randy said, desperation sneaking into his tone, "I'm not even supposed to be on tech support. I'm a programmer." In fact the last time he had served as tech support was six years ago, when a former boss had tried to stay up a few hours too many while wrestling with an endless pill of bills and had spilled coffee on his laptop.

The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you're not qualified to handle a customer's minor technical difficulties?"

"No, no, I'm more than qualified," the software engineer clarified. "I just think I would be put to better use on the coding side of the company. I never even received any kind of training in how to handle customer service calls."

"I thought you were more than qualified," Niedermeyer replied dryly.

Randy exhaled in frustration. "You know what I mean!"

"I'm afraid I don't." The older man's expression was overly grave, as if it were only for show. "I can't say losing an employee as talented as yourself will be a boon for Zolcraft."

"Sir," Randy began, "Please…"

"But we have an image of courtesy and professionalism to uphold," Niedermeyer finished, previous affected gravity replaced with smug satisfaction. "Ms. Dale will help you clear your desk if you need it. I hope you understand."

"No," the disgruntled twenty-six year old replied as he rose from his seat, fists clenched. "But I won't waste any more of your time."

-----------

"You got fired?!"

"Yeah," Randy bitterly replied, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he stuffed various files and folders into cardboard moving boxes.

"What did you do?" Candy asked incredulously.

"Not what you're thinking," her husband assured her. "I just let a not-so-nice phrase slip while substituting for someone on tech support."

A long pause. "You cussed a customer out?" the voice on the other end cried.

"No!" Randy insisted. "I didn't." Sighing, he awkwardly placed a box on top of the corner of his cubicle. "It's just that it was this incredibly long, difficult call, and at the end…" He paused. "Let's just say I realized was completely wasting my time."

"Even so, that doesn't mean you can-"

"Look, Candy," Randy interrupted, frustration clear in his voice, "I already got chewed out by Mr. Niedermeyer. I don't need to hear it from you too."

Her voice softened. "I'm sorry hun. I know how things were…he was probably just looking for a reason to get rid of you."

"Tell me about it," he muttered. "I know losing my job really sucks, but in a way I'm relieved to be out of here." Randy bit his lip. "Only thing is I now don't know what I'm going to do."

"You'll find a job," Candy said encouragingly.

"After being fired for being rude to a customer?" Randy asked skeptically.

"Well…" she trailed off.

Randy sighed. "See?"

Another long pause. "Tell you what."

"What?"

"An old friend called in a favor earlier today, and the big boys approved. Should be a short case, and afterwards I asked for some time off," Candy replied.

Not quite catching on, Randy pressed for more information. "And…?"

Though he couldn't see it, his wife was grinning. "How would you feel about a Central American vacation?"

* * *

---Argentina--- 

The light clicking of plastic cups and saucers was all that could be heard in the stillness of the small, crowded tent. Ever the gracious hostess, Kim had brewed tea for Elsie and their unexpected guest, and now placed two cupfuls in front of the pair. The kindly old man expressed his thanks before lifting his cup to his lips and proclaiming the blend simply divine. Elsie, on the other hand, ignored the tea, opting instead to continue to stare at the new arrival in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Placing his cup of steaming tea back on its saucer, Mr. Worthington good-naturedly ignored the bluntness of her request, remaining amiable. "I'm so sorry my dear, I haven't formally introduced myself, have I?" Taking Elsie's blank stare as confirmation, he continued. "My name is Phillip Worthington. I sent you a fax earlier today."

"A fax saying you had other things to attend to," Elsie said, still confused.

"Yes that's true, as I wasn't sure if I would be able to make it all the way here today," he explained. "The weather off Southeastern coast of Mexico was rather frightful."

"So you braved a Mexican storm to come all the way out here," the redhead mused. "I hope you have a good reason."

"I have an excellent one," Worthington assured her. "Though it will take a bit of explaining on my part."

"I'll bet," Elsie replied dryly before motioning for him to continue. "So you might as well start now."

"Very well then," Phillip obeyed, smoothing down his tie. "As you can see from the helicopter, my family owns a rather successful corporation."

"I've heard of Worthington Enterprises," Elsie nodded. "It's a big conglomerate, isn't it?"

"That it is," Phillip smiled. "Besides a large shipping and manufacturing business, one of our subsidiaries, WorTech, specializes in biotechnology."

Biotechnology? Elsie knew there were few paths a road starting there, combined with a sudden interest in a behavioral specialist that used to work with mutants, could take.

"We were especially known for genetic engineering," Worthington continued. "WorTech worked with, and in some cases employed, the world's leading experts on genetics. We were recognized as one of the leading biotechnology companies."

Elsie gave him a pointed stare, opting to get straight to the point. "Something went wrong, didn't it?"

The elderly man sighed. "We didn't mean for anything to happen."

"Forgive me for sounding cliché," Elsie snorted, "but the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"I suppose it is," Phillip quietly agreed. "Even so, I hope you'll hear me out."

Elsie sighed, and nodded. "It can't hurt."

Smiling gratefully, Phillip picked up where he left off. "We had a research lab in Costa Rica. Not on the mainland, but on an uninhabited island off the coast. We didn't want to take any unnecessary risks." He paused. "But apparently our geographical safeguards did not prove foolproof."

"You think your company has something to do with the attacks taking place in Costa Rica?" Elsie asked, though she already knew the answer.

"I fear we have everything to do with them," Worthington explained. "We had a…project of sorts. One that proved to be a bit much to handle."

Raising her eyebrows, Elsie inquired as to what kind of project that was.

Phillip shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to say." His voice was apologetic. "I will tell you that the results were quite unexpected, and our researchers did their best to clean up the mess they created. We boarded up the facilities and burned everything – files, tissue samples, synthesized chemicals, etc."

"Obviously that wasn't enough," Elsie observed, "or you wouldn't be here today."

"You're quite right," Worthington acknowledged. "We thought we had the situation under control, and for several months, that appeared to be the case. But with the recent tragedies in Costa Rica, I'm no longer sure we successfully averted disaster."

"You're not sure if those attacks had anything to do with your pet projects?" Elsie asked, trying to get a better handle on the situation.

"Since no one's gotten a good look at what's responsible, no," Phillip replied. "There is also the matter of the distance between the research facilities and the beach on which the attacks take place. We can't be sure the…experiment…could travel that distance unaided." Sighing again, he added, "Of course it's not like we ever ran any tests on endurance."

"Where do I come in?" the paleontologist asked, hoping to get to the heart of the matter. The quicker he asked for her help, the quicker she could turn him down.

"Well the combined efforts of the Costa Rican government and the international taskforce assigned to dealing with mutations have come up fruitless." Worthington folded his hands across his lap. "No one knows any more about this nighttime predator now than we did when the first hunt occurred."

"Sounds like a tough case," Elsie replied. "I'm sure the M-Force can handle it."

Hints of a smile tugged at the senior citizen's lips. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"My opinion on how effectively the world is handling this issue doesn't really matter." Elsie brushed some hair out of her face. "The fact remains, the force and local governments are the only ones with the authority and resources to do anything about it."

"I may be getting on in years," Worthington said sympathetically, "but I do know that wasn't always the case." He eyed her. "You of all people should remember that."

Else sighed. "Believe me, I remember. But that's not necessarily a good thing."

Phillip hesitated for a second. "You're a well-known behavioral paleontologist, and one of the only ones who's had real experience with mutations over a long period of time. If you could perhaps accompany me on a short trip down to Costa Rica to take a look at things…"

"I'm sorry," the redhead interrupted, "but that's a part of my past I would rather not revisit. My work in paleontology is my life now, and I don't have time to let anything distract me from that."

"This wouldn't be a lengthy distraction," Phillip offered. "Just a few days down on the beach and a bit of time in the Costa Rican jungle is all I ask."

"I have rather pressing matters to attend to here," Elsie replied firmly. "We just uncovered a possible Carnotaurus fossil."

"And that fossil would be waiting for your critical scientific eye once you returned." Phillip leaned forward a bit. "I know you probably don't have a lot of sympathy for me or my company, and that's understandable. But if you were to just devote a matter of days to this, there could be an innumerable number of people that owe you their lives."

Elsie bit her lip. He certainly was persistent.

"The present anti-mutant teams have all but failed. We need someone who can both find those hidden clues that have been overlooked, and put them together to form some insight into the matter. Perhaps why it hunts at night, its fondness for the beach, what kind of prey it's most likely to go after…"

"There are behavioral specialists already working with the force," Elsie asserted. "I wouldn't add much."

"Ah, but I think you in particular have a lot to add," he responded. "You have both a brilliant mind and a good amount of practical experience. I have no doubt that you would be best suited for the job." He rose from his seat. "Nevertheless, I need to be going. I have another specialist to rendez-vous with in Costa Rica. Tell your colleague that her tea-making skills are unparalleled." He made his way to the door before turning. "I'll wait for fifteen minutes. Please give my request some serious consideration."

"Look, I certainly appreciate your coming all this way to speak to me, but my answer is still-,"

"Just think about it," he said, gently cutting her off.

"Fine," Elsie conceded, moving to hold the tent flap open as he left. After he hobbled out, Kim came rushing in to replace him. The fiery-haired woman smirked. "You weren't eavesdropping, were you?"

"Of course not," Kim lied, before turning serious. "So are you going to do it?"

"If you heard enough to know what 'it' is," Elsie replied, "you should also know my answer."

Kim looked visibly deflated. "Come on Else, what have you got to lose?"

"Oh just everything I've worked for these past six years," she retorted.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "He's not asking you to drop all of this forever. He just wants your help for a few days."

Elsie sank into a metal folding chair. "It doesn't matter how long it is. I'm not going back to that."

Squatting so that she was eye-level with the now-seated Elsie, Kim's expression was thoughtful. "I don't know everything that happened during your time with HEAT," she began, "and I also don't know why you left." She paused. "You try to make it seem like you were miserable the whole time, but when you lighten up and tell us some stories…" she trailed off. "You seem happy, Else. Like anyone would be when reflecting on good times. No matter what you say, I think you really enjoyed your time there, moreso than you enjoy this."

"What are you talking about?" Elsie exclaimed, shocked. "I pour my entire life into my work now!"

"I know you do," Kim assured her. "Everyone does. But that doesn't mean it's necessarily what you're meant to do."

Rolling her eyes, Elsie only said, "Don't tell me you believe in destiny or anything like that."

"Well, maybe," the blonde replied. "I believe we all have a purpose in life, but we can sometimes get thrown off-track in figuring out what that purpose is."

"My purpose then," the older woman smirked, "is to sport a perpetual cough from all the dust I inhale while digging up dinosaur bones."

Kim shook her head. "All jokes aside Else, I think you should really consider Worthington's offer. It's a good way to dabble back in what you used to do without a huge commitment. I can hold down fort here until you get back."

Elsie sighed. "I don't know Kim…"

"Fate works in mysterious ways," Kim smiled. "Worthington came to you for a reason."

"Yeah," Elsie snorted. "To try and bail his careless company out."

Shaking her head, Kim defended the old man. "He seems sincere, not to mention fed up with the incompetence of the M-Force. He knows who'd be best for the job."

Closing her eyes, Elsie took a deep breath before uttering one word that she was sure she'd later regret. "Fine."

Surprised,the younger womanmade sure she heard correctly. "You'll do it?"

"Why are you so shocked?" Elsie asked, amused. "You're the one who's been pestering me about it." She got up to leave the tent and speak to Phillip. "I may be jaded, but I'm not heartless. If there's a way for me to help the people of Costa Rica without giving up my current work, I might as well take it." She shrugged. "At the very least, it's good karma."

The upper corner of Kim's lips twitched. "You believe in karma, but think destiny is a load of crap?"

"Not a load of crap," Elsie called over her shoulder as she moved towards Phillip's helicopter. "Just a tad less reliable than the newspaper horoscope."

Coming up towards the side of the Worthington aircraft, Elsie knocked on the door. Phillip opened it, smiling widely. "Dr. Chapman! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's your lucky day Worthington," she said. "I'm in. But only for this one trip."

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "We'll have a wonderful time together!"

"Yeah," Elsie muttered at the man's incomprehensible delight at the prospect of going on a wild goose chase after a man-eating monster. "That is, if I don't shoot myself first."

* * *

---New York, New York--- 

Pulling his light jacket tighter around himself, it took all of Mendel Craven's willpower to keep his teeth from chattering as another sharp gust of wind blew past. The vast majority of New Yorkers ignored the cold, concentrating solely on reaching their next destination in the quickest possible time as they bumped and shoved each other, at times accidentally, at other times, not. Mendel jumped out of the way as one ill-timed shove sent a woman's open cappuccino splattering to the ground mere inches from his feet. He smiled weakly at her rushed apology, opening his mouth to say it was fine. But before he could do so, the woman brushed herself off and pushed past him, the incident forgotten. He pressed his lips in a thin line. "Oh how I love New York. Can't see why I don't come back more often."

Jonah grinned at him. "In a sarcastic mood I see. If you hate this place so much, why exactly do you ever come back?"

"I don't hate it," Mendel clarified, "and Mother lives here."

"Ah," the younger man nodded in understanding before checking his watch. "They're late."

"Good," the robotist said. "Maybe they're not coming."

Jonah laughed. "I'm sure they're coming. They probably just encountered an unexpected delay. Heard they're flying in from pretty far away."

Shifting uncomfortably, Mendel became uneasy. "Well are we just going to stand here forever?"

"Not forever." Jonah checked his watch again. "But definitely for another good half-an-hour."

"Maybe _you_ can stand out here for another thirty minutes," the blond snorted. "but I definitely won't."

"There aren't any flights to Pittsburgh for another six hours." Jonah shrugged. "You might as well stay here. Nothing to do in an airport."

"You mean a heated airport," Mendel muttered, rubbing his hands together. He eyed the inside of the bookstore they were currently stationed at, focusing on the cozy coffee shop. "Think I have time to get a drink to warm me up?"

Jonah waved him off. "Knock yourself out – metaphorically speaking." He smiled playfully at Mendel. "Don't hit the liquor too hard."

Rolling his eyes, Mendel ignored the last barb, biting off his comment about not caring too much for alcohol. Instead, he eagerly pushed open the glass door to the Borders store, escaping the chilly autumn weather in favor of heated comfort. Making his way through throngs of people browsing through books and CDs, he finally reached the counter for the coffee shop. "Excuse me?"

The clerk turned from his conversation with a fellow employee. "Yeah?"

"I'd like a small, plain, decaf, please," Mendel requested.

The teenager eyed him suspiciously. "That's it? A plain decaf?"

Mendel nodded. He'd probably be allergic to half the ingredients of anything more complicated. "That's all."

The cashier shrugged. "Ok then." He punched Mendel's order in the cash register while simultaneously calling for someone to get started on it.

The forty-two year old waited patiently for a few moments until his order was filled, handing the appropriate payment over to the cashier before accepting his steaming up of decaffeinated coffee. He took a hearty sip as he made his way through the ever-present crowd, careful not to bump into anyone and inadvertently spill the precious beverage. Glancing outside, he could see Jonah talking to two other men. One looked to be in his mid-twenties and wore the dark uniform universally associated with the M-Force.

'It's about time,' he thought, quickening his pace so as to get the whole ordeal over with. But then the other man turned around and Mendel froze, almost turning his coffee into a dark splash of liquid on the floor.

-----------

"Ready to take a break?" a portly middle-aged man asked as his colleague headed for the door.

"Pretty much, yeah," Ben replied. "Want me to get you something?"

Joe, his fellow security guard shook his head. "Naw, I'm good. No one coming in at this time anyway…everyone's out to lunch. Probably don't even have to stay awake."

"Didn't the Boss say something about two people flying in for some important meeting though?" Ben asked.

"Eh, whatever," Joe shrugged. "If they're supposed to be here then they won't mind waiting a minute or two for me to check their creds."

"Right," the blond said as he walked out the door before calling over his shoulder, "But you should still stay awake!"

Joe laughed heartily as he waved goodbye. Propping his legs up on his desk, he moved to lean back in his chair until a solid blow to his head caused him to slump to the ground.

-----------

The formerly two-man ensemble outside the Borders had grown to three, despite losing an original member. "Once again, I'm sorry we're late," Nick apologized. "It was my fault."

Jonah waved his apology off. "No problemo. I love waiting outside in the cold."

Nick regarded him strangely. "Right."

Stepping in, Rich made sure Jonah knew what was going on. "Have you been briefed?"

"Uncle Sam wants to know if Solstice's new bag of toys is the real deal," Jonah replied. "No big." He paused. "I did bring someone that had some practical experience in the matter along. I hope you don't mind."

Rich blanched. "This is a rather sensitive meeting. You can't just invite people to tag along without permission."

"I didn't think it would be a big deal," Jonah replied, before eyeing Nick. "Though I didn't know _you_ would be here."

"Why would that…" Rich began to ask, before catching a glimpse of his brown-haired colleague.

Nick's jaw had suddenly tensed and his eyes were focused on a point beyond Jonah. Keeping his voice eerily neutral, he curtly nodded. "Mendel."

The man who was now the subject of three stares tried not to wince. "Hi Nick."

"How's MIT?" Nick asked, voice still tight.

"Actually, I'm at Carnegie Mellon now," Mendel quietly corrected.

"Oh," the biologist replied, bitterly amused. "Nice to know your inability to stick with one employer for more than two years crossed over to the academic world."

Brown eyes glared. "You know I-"

"So," Rich interrupted, trying to diffuse the obvious tension. "So, do you two know each other?"

"You could say that," Nick answered before turning to Jonah. "I take it this is your friend with the practical experience?"

"Yeah," the twenty-seven year old replied. "I thought he would be a big help. He'd only have to stay for this meeting."

Rich opened his mouth to protest when Nick cut him off. "That's fine. I'm sure Dr. Craven would know more than any of us about how well Solstice's prototypes would translate into the field."

Mendel shrugged awkwardly. "Not necessarily."

Several beats of silence passed, as no one knew quite what to say. Rich finally found the courage to speak. "We're cutting it close time-wise. Shouldn't keep Solstice waiting."

"Of course we shouldn't," Nick said, though his expression darkened. Catching this, Mendel was thankful there was someone else who Nick apparently disliked even more than him.

-----------

Stuffing the now unconscious security guard under his desk, Midnight set to work on the video monitors. They seemed to cover mostly hallways and areas in which what could only be described as trade secrets were stored. Scanning the small white print at the top-right corner of each one, she finally found "Wntroffice." Typing away furiously at the keyboard controlling what each screen displayed, she replaced the office view with that of some workers droning away in cubicles.

Satisfied, Midnight scanned the upper walls. Finding an air duct, she hoisted herself on top of a shelf, popped it open, and crawled inside. It was uncomfortably warm, but her reliance on stealth required tolerance for less than ideal conditions.

Now there was only the task of finding Winter's office. Seeing as it was about thirty stories up, she used the air ducts to discretely make her way to the unused maintenance elevator. Once there, Midnight made sure the coast was clear before sliding out of the duct and into the elevator.

Elevators were risky, as she couldn't be sure no one else would use it. But the stairs would take longer, and since it was broad daylight out, she couldn't try to scale the skyscraper from the outside. She'd just have to place her bets on the janitors taking a break.

Slender fingers with black painted nails felt along the ceiling of the elevator, stopping when they came to rest on a small hatch. Waiting for the trip to be halfway complete before pushing the elevator's emergency stop and then punching the hatch open, Midnight hoisted herself up and on top of the elevator. Pulling on gloves that would give her a better grip, the assassin began to scale the thick wires that supported the elevator. It would be a long trip, and was certainly still dangerous if someone else decided to use the lift, but she'd rather risk being crushed by an immense elevator car barreling straight at her than risk being discovered by some unsuspecting maid. Not that she couldn't take care of said maid. She just wanted to leave as few tracks, or in this case dead bodies, as possible.

Arms burning and muscles screaming at her in rage, she finally made it to her destination. Taking a deep breath and jumping to the small ledge that would dock with the elevator car, she summoned whatever strength remained in her arms to force open the doors. Not even pausing to catch her breath, she quickly jumped up into that floor's air duct so as to avoid being seen.

The heat within the air ducts was even worse when combined with aching muscles. Scorching-hot metal would have burned her skin were it not for her gloves and the dark, full-body covering that made up her usual ensemble. Hair twisted into a tight bun completed the simple but effective look.

Peering through the grill of a nearby vent, Midnight squinted to make out the figures in the room. A woman was busy typing. Petite; brunette; short, flipped hair…matched the description of Winter's secretary. Surmising that his office was nearby, she continued straight ahead until she could see into a spacious room lined with bookcases, frames, and mahogany furniture. It was also unoccupied, though that wouldn't be the case for long.

-----------

A light knock on a cherry-wood, glossy countertop did not serve to alert any Solstice employees to the presence of four men waiting in their lobby. Nick frowned. "Hello?"

"Strange," Rich mused. "You'd think they'd have a receptionist or a security guard here."

Blue eyes traveled over the small TVs built into a cabinet. "Looks like it's security." He leaned on the counter. "Or at least, it would be if anyone were here."

Mendel had remained quiet for a while, still not comfortable with being there in the first place. A slight groan, however, caught his attention. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jonah asked, confused.

Another groan. "I heard it," Rich stated, looking to Nick for confirmation. After seeing the biologist nod, the M-Force agent stealthily leapt over the security desk and quickly retrieved the assaulted guard who was finally starting to wake up. "Well this was unexpected," he quipped.

Nick frowned. "What happened?"

"You might want to slow down there," Jonah prodded, "I don't think he's ready to start talking."

Rich hoisted the chubby guard over the desk until Nick eased him down to the floor. "Does anyone have some water?"

"Mendel's got coffee," Jonah offered until he saw the look on the robotist's face. "Or he may have already drank it."

The biologiststared at him for a moment, but a cheerful voice cut off any reply he may have been formulating. "Hello there! Welcome to Solstice Technologies!"

Hopping back over the desk, Rich extended a hand. "I'm Rich Reynolds, and this is my colleague Nick Tatopoulos. Drs. Jonah Levine and Mendel Craven will be joining us for the presentation." He looked down. "But before all that, you have a situation you might want to take care of."

"Oh dear," the woman trailed off before whipping out a cell phone. "Troy, we have something down here that needs to be looked at."

"Is there a hospital nearby?" Nick asked. "It doesn't look too serious, but he still needs medical attention."

"I assure you, Dr. Tatopoulos, we are more than capable of handling this ourselves," she replied, voice frosty.

'My reputation precedes me,' Nick thought to himself. 'Might as well try to keep at least one trip to this God-forsaken corporation free of any unpleasantness.' He subsequently relented, leaving the guard to the two Solstice employees that had just stepped off the lobby's elevator.

"I hope you will excuse my manners, as I haven't properly introduced myself," the woman continued. "My name is Donna Marfield, and I work in marketing here at Solstice."

Rich nodded. "I believe we spoke over the phone."

"That we did," Donna agreed. "But there's been a slight change of plans."

Both Nick and Mendel were instantly wary. "What kind of change?" Nick asked.

"Trust me," Donna reassured them, "it's a good one. Our CEO, Cameron Winter, was so thrilled at the prospect of such a huge government contract that he insisted on speaking to some representatives of the M-Force in person." She glanced at the clock. "But he's a bit pressed for time, so if perhaps two of you could meet with him and then join the others at the presentation." Giving the ragtag group a once-over, she added, "However you want to split that up is up to you."

"I'll meet with Cameron," Nick stated firmly before anyone else could even open their mouths. "And Mendel will come with me."

The CMU professor was shocked on two accounts. First, that Nick would volunteer himself for a personal meeting with Winter. Second, that Nick would force him of all people to come along. Mendel wasn't in the mood for an argument, however, and so let it slide. If they seemed to be on speaking terms, he could ask about it later.

-----------

Through her obscured view from the ventilation system, Midnight could see the form of a woman enter the office and shuffle through some papers on the desk. Though she didn't have a clear view, the profile seemed to reveal the secretary. Footsteps indicated the presence of another, a fact which the ensuing conversation would confirm.

"Do you have everything ready?"

"Yes. Mr. Winter will be back in a few minutes."

"Give him some time to get settled, then send our two guests in."

"Right," the secretary said, moving out of view, and Midnight assumed, out of the office. Her voice could still be heard as she lowered it. "We didn't know that _he_ would be coming…Boss is going to have to pull a number on him if we want to get this through."

Not knowing nor particularly caring about what she was referring to, Midnight only listened intently for the telltale click of a closing door. Once she heard it, she swiftly opened the duct and slid out, remembering to put the grill back in place once finished.

Brown eyes quickly surveyed the office for a decent hiding spot. Nothing would be as good as the vent, but from what the secretary had said, she'd only have a few minutes of Winter alone, and so needed to be able to strike quickly. Her eyes came to rest on a short, oddly shaped bookcase. Undoubtedly avant-garde furniture, the front shot down rigidly straight while the back curved. The positioning of the books also made it seem like the bookcase part of it ended somewhere in the middle of the structure. Moving the object as quietly as possible, Midnight was rewarded with the sight of a small crawl space.

Voices could be heard outside. Making haste, the assassin squeezed herself into the available space, pulling the bookcase back into position before anyone could sense something was amiss.

-----------------------------------

Lila, Cameron Winter's administrative assistant, smiled broadly at the pair seated in his waiting room as she closed the door to his office. "Mr. Winter is running a little late," she explained. "But I have it on good authority that he will be up shortly."

Nick nodded. "Great. We'll just make ourselves comfortable until he's ready."

"Of course you will," she replied, voice sugary-sweet. Glancing awkwardly from one man to the other, she inquired as to whether they would like any coffee while they waited.

"That would be wonderful," Nick replied. "I'll take mine black while my friend here would rather have decaf, easy on the sugar, but generous when it comes to cream."

Lila gave them a small, polite nod before scurrying out of the room, glad for an excuse to not have to stay and make small talk.

Mendel regarded Nick out of the corner of his eye. "I just had coffee."

"It's decaf," his former boss answered quickly. "One more cup won't hurt."

Silence.

"You take it black now?" the blonde hesitantly asked.

"Cream just dilutes it," Nick succinctly replied, not eager to go into an explanation about his change in coffee habits.

More silence. Nick rose from his seat. "Stay here."

Mendel blinked in surprise, hoping Nick didn't mean to leave him to face Winter alone. "Where are you going?"

"Just investigating a few things," the brunette called over his shoulder as he moved towards Winter's office.

Brown eyes practically bugged out of a round, bearded face. "What do you think you're doing? You can't just sneak into his office!"

Sighing in exasperation, the biologist turned to face his former teammate. "A security guard for a cushy corporate headquarters is found stuffed under his desk, unconscious, in the middle of the day. You don't think something's up?"

"It's a possibility," Mendel began, "but there are tons of innocent explanations for why that might have happened."

"You're right," Nick acknowledged. "Except this is Solstice."

Sighing, Mendel only said, "I see you don't let go of past grudges."

Blue eyes narrowed. "What passed between Winter and me was more than a grudge."

"I know, I know," the robotist ejected before Nick could start a tirade. "But what possible motivation could he have for sabotaging a gigantic government contract? His company would lose billions!"

"A lot of the technology used in that contract would help me," the younger man forced out, gritting his teeth.

Mendel could only roll his eyes. "Not everything is about you, you know."

"And I never said it was," Nick shot back. "But this is Winter. I know him better than you or any other person here does. I know enough not to trust him."

Staring at the brown-haired M-Force collaborator, Mendel finally asked, "By some strange leap of logic, does this have anything to do with why you asked me to come up here with you?"

"If you must know," the former oligochaetologist replied disdainfully. "It does."

Confusion painted the blonde's features. "Why?"

"Because I could trust you more than Rich or Dr. Levine. Rich wouldn't take kindly to my snooping around a sponsor's office, and I don't know Jonah well enough to know what he'd think." Nick fixed his gaze on Mendel. "But from what I've gathered, you don't even want to be here. You wouldn't care."

"You're making an awful lot of assumptions about me, aren't you?" Mendel bitterly retorted.

"Well?" Nick asked skeptically. "Am I wrong?" After a few moments, he simply said, "I'll take your silence as a 'no.'"

The robotist crossed his arms in defeat. "I'm not going to cover for you if you get caught."

Shrugging, Nick dismissed the idle threat. "I wouldn't expect you to." Gripping the door handle of the door to Winter's office, the brunette paused. "If I were you, however," he began, "I would warn me if you hear anyone coming. If I do get caught, they'll know you knew about it. And that won't exactly do wonders for your reputation."

-----------

Midnight longed for the ability to stretch her legs for even a moment, as her current cramped position made the ventilation system feel like a down pillow. But too much time had passed, and she knew enough to not risk being caught just for the sake of relieving discomfort. The assassin had squeaked out of too many legitimate close calls to let herself be defeated by something as trivial as her own muscle pain.

She could hear voices speaking just outside the door. Both male. Midnight shifted positions so that she might hear better. The two men were conversing about something, and someone mentioned getting caught in the office. The ebony-haired woman frowned. She doubted Winter would be concerned about anyone finding him in his home away from home. Her mission file told her he logged an immense amount of time behind that mahogany desk.

That begged the obvious follow-up question: just who were those two men outside? Remembering a passing comment made by the CEO's secretary, the Frenchwoman surmised that the pair must be the guests that Winter planned to meet. She strained her sensitive hearing even more. Something sounded awfully familiar about those voices, but she couldn't quite place it. Her career in the Ring had taken her to dozens of countries and had her listening to thousands of conversations. She may have heard those two during a previous stakeout in New York, however long ago that may have been.

Heavy footsteps could be heard, despite their being muffled by the thick wooden door. Then a creak echoed through the room as the footsteps grew lighter, but moved closer. Whoever this was obviously did not want anyone to know they were there.

More footsteps, spaced regularly enough for Midnight to confidently say they came from one person. The pacing then stopped, only to be replaced by the sounds of drawers opening and the shuffling of papers.

The assassin barely allowed herself to breathe now, taking extra measures to make sure absolutely nothing would betray her presence. She may have been here on a lethal mission, but she did not want to have to eliminate her target's guests as well. If Fate looked kindly upon both of them, he would leave before Winter returned to find him perusing through what were most likely confidential files.

-----------

Not sure as to why he was being so quiet, as only Mendel remained nearby, Nick nonetheless discretely made his way into Winter's office to begin his search. He wasn't exactly sure of what he was looking for, but his gut told him he'd know when he found it.

Stepping into the center of the room, Nick put aside his personal opinion of its occupant for a moment and admired the décor. Winter may be insane, but the biologist had to admit, he had taste. Seemingly expensive taste too – the value of the furniture alone could run into the upper tens of thousands of dollars.

Remembrance of his time constraints, however, cut his analysis of his enemy's furniture fashion sense short. Lila was only getting coffee; she could be back any minute. Whatever he had to do, he had to do it quick.

Moving swiftly to the most likely habitat of incriminating evidence – the desk – Nick gave the surface a quick once over, moving papers around haphazardly. Finding nothing that would support any sort of case against Winter in the eyes of Hicks and other M-Force officials, Nick frustratingly tossed them aside and moved behind the desk, roughly pulling open drawers and sifting through the contents.

Financial projections, strategic analysis…no, nothing interesting there. Stuffing the file back into place, Nick shut that desk drawer and opened the next one. He found employee satisfaction surveys and press releases. Basically more papers and folders of little interest to him.

Knowing he was running short on time, the thirty-four-year-old almost resigned himself to giving up, until a file with a red label caught his eye. Setting its companions back into the drawer, Nick stared at his discovery. "Project XLR-G19." The brunette frowned. What was that?

-----------

Mendel lounged back in his chair, asking himself over and over why he ever agreed to accompany Jonah on this damn trip. Idly, he wondered if the whiz kid had been truthful when he asked him if he knew who the M-Force representatives would be. He most certainly would never have agreed to tag along had he known Nick would be coming.

But judging by Solstice's reception of the quartet, they didn't seem to be expecting Nick either. The man no doubt still held his former prejudices about the company, and probably made that clear in any interactions with its higher-ups.

A light rumble interrupted Mendel's musings. He tensed, entire body on alert to sense any possible disturbance in its environment.

That paid off with the sensing of another rumble, stronger this time. Everything in the small room, from the tables to the lamps, shook slightly. The blonde frowned. It didn't feel like an earthquake, and it's not like they'd get any in New York anyways.

Before he could contemplate the mysterious disturbance any further, Lila's voice floated in from the hallway. Mendel threw a panicked glance at the office door as Lila and Winter entered the waiting room.

"Dr. Mendel Craven," Cameron Winter exclaimed. "We meet again. I must say it is an honor for an expert of your caliber to pay my little company a visit."

Mendel smiled weakly. "It was nothing."

The platinum blonde executive frowned before addressing his secretary. "I thought you said Nickels was with him."

Lila frowned as well and opened her mouth to speak. Mouth moving faster than his mind, Mendel cut her forever unspoken sentence off. "He had to go the bathroom!"

Raising an eyebrow, Winter only looked at Mendel skeptically. "Really?"

"Really," Mendel replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Well then," the CEO began, obviously not satisfied with Mendel's excuse, "I guess I'll just get things ready in my office…"

"No!" the blond cried, mouth once again proving too quickly for his mind to catch up.

Winter fixed him with a cold stare, as Mendel's behavior only confirmed his initial suspicions. "Just what is going on?" he asked sternly.

Mendel's eyes trailed to the door. 'I don't know why in God's name I decided to cover for you, Nick, but you better think of someway to get us both out of here.'

-----------

Two ears perked at the sound of a low rumble in the distance. Waiting for a moment, Nick tensed once he both heard and felt a follow up vibration. He moved towards the window, echoes of restlessness and apprehension in the streets getting louder the closer he got. The sound of recognizable voices outside the door, however, almost made Nick drop the unopened folder he held in his hands and zapped his attention away from the would-be earthquakes. Tucking the Project XLR-G19 folder into one of his coat's large pockets, and pausing to be thankful Lila hadn't had the graciousness to take their coats once they came in, Nick did his best to calm down. Unfortunately, all the thoughts running through his mind were along the lines of "Ohhhh shit."

Taking deep breaths, the biologist called upon his previous experience in harnessing his body's supply of adrenaline to escape from tight spots. He had done it before. He could do it again. All he had to do was…was…

Hide. He had to hide.

Hide for how long? He couldn't stay in here forever.

Well he could try. In any case, it was better than any other option he had at the moment, which included either strolling out of the office to greet an enraged Winter, or jumping out the window.

Finally gaining some direction in his escape plan, Nick carefully scanned the office for a nook or cranny big enough to conceal a 6'1" frame. Under the desk? Winter would find him in a second. Behind a plant? No protection at all. Under a sofa? Possible, but also easy to uncover. Behind a bookcase? No, no room.

Until one particular bookcase caught his eye.

It wasn't tall by any means, but the strange shape seemed to create a sort of open space behind it. Moving quickly, Nick pushed it aside, eyes glued to the door as he tried to be as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, a new, stronger rumble threw him off balance and sent him crashing into his newly created hiding space. But judging by the soft object that cushioned his fall, he was not the only thing to try and utilize such a spot.

Jerking away in shock, Nick attempted to see in the relative darkness caused by the room's present lack of artificial lighting. Whatever it was moved further back against the wall, prompting the brunette to try and feel it out. It seemed to be a person. His hand traveled up a bit. Not just a person, but most definitely a woman.

Said woman did not appreciate his non-malicious curiosity, and a high-heeled black boot swiftly caught him in the jaw, spraying him back onto the floor. Before he could even get up, he felt himself pinned to the ground, the frosted blade of a knife pressed against his neck.

The clear and present danger, however, was not what currently monopolized Nick's attention. That honor went to brown eyes, dark hair, and a face that for so long had only been a memory, yet was still instantly familiar.

Blue eyes searched brown ones for signs of recognition that he knew she could easily repress. Both remained speechless, unwilling to be the first to break the tense silence that settled over them. Finally taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak just as she eased the knife off his neck, clearly nervous about what he might say.

Her fears, however, proved unfounded, as a giant scaled appendage came crashing through the window, ripping reinforced concrete apart like tissue paper and knocking the pair through a now shattered drywall barrier.

---End Chapter Two---

Gah. It is nearly five in the morning. I stayed up all night to get this done. Well I hope you guys like it. I won't be able to update for a while, seeing as I will not have access to a computer from the 27th-30th. There is obviously more action to come, and I promise everyone's favorite lizard will get eventually get more screen time. :o)

Also, I was wondering about what you guys think of the chapter lengths. Shorter, longer, whatever?


	4. 3: Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood

**Comments and Reviewer Notes:** Thanks so much to dolphinology, US Ranger, and tlg for reviewing chapter two. I really appreciate your taking the time to do so. I am especially honored that tlg considered this one of the best fics they've read, and that dolphinology saw fit to place me on his or her favorite authors list. That means a lot guys!

FFN is being annoying so the formatting is a little different this time around. Also, this chapter will hopefully be one of the last heavy on exposition and set-up, allowing the plot to really start moving forward soon.

When Even Hindsight is Clouded

Chapter Three: Two Roards Diverged in a Yellow Wood

-Pacific Ocean-

The blue-green calmness of the ocean waves did little to betray the complex and tangled net of both life and death contained within. In the span of a mere moment, a life below ended, began, or took an irreversible turn. Predator caught prey, mother gave birth to child, counterparts met as mates. The gentle, repetitive motion of waves gently washing over each other concealed every bit, lending the horizon an unmatched aura of equal serenity and mystery.

Elsie almost wished the rest of the world had a similar calming albeit deceptive covering. Amid the chaos that the past several years of her life had been, she was thankful she could still find something that didn't tug at the jaded cynic that had come to envelope more and more of her persona.

"Looking at the waves, dear?"

Wincing slightly at the endearment, Elsie turned to face Worthington. Dark suit slightly wrinkled, he leaned back in a posh, roomy seat, clearly relaxed yet still maintaining an air of sophistication. Wire-frame spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose as his gaze traveled over words printed in the morning edition of _The Times_. Without waiting for Elsie's reply, he continued to speak. "Being able to enjoy lovely sights such as those could certainly be called an advantage of traveling in a low-flying private jet."

The paleontologist only smiled politely in response before going back to staring out the window of the small aircraft.

"Not fond of conversation, hm?" Worthington joked.

"It depends on who the conversation would be with," came the curt reply.

Phillip laughed lightly before lapsing into a moment of thoughtful silence. "You know, despite my being rather persistent in soliciting your assistance, this was still your choice, and it will remain so." He gazed at her, expression serious. "You can back out at any time."

Elsie sighed. "I said I'd do it, so I will. You don't need to worry about me abandoning ship in the middle of the investigation."

"Very well then," the older gentlemen conceded. "If perhaps then, you might be able to shed some light on the hostility?"

Green eyes blinked in surprise. Beneath the ever-eloquent covering, Worthington's request was uncharacteristically blunt. Elsie had expected him to perhaps hint at her rudeness rather than bring it up as a conversation starter. Turning her gaze from the window once more, the redhead's expression was apologetic. "I'm sorry. I really don't mean to be so rude." It was only a bit of a stretch, as Elsie never held much fondness for the pampered rich. "It's just that I've been having second thoughts about this since the moment I stepped on your chopper."

Worthington nodded. "Perfectly understandable. It has been a while since you're embarked on this sort of mission. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that you've retained your unmatched skill in sorting out the often strange behavior of our oversized friends."

Slightly annoyed, Elsie attempted to clarify her reservations. "It's not that I don't think I can do the job."

Phillip looked genuinely confused, though Elsie suspected it was an act. "Then what's the problem?"

Biting her lip, the forty-two year old considered her options. She knew this man for all of five hours. An honest answer to his question would require divulging personal information she'd rather keep private. Not to mention it would require more backstory than the ride to Costa Rica would allow.

So she could always lie. Ease her way around the question by saying she'd had a bad week, or that she was frustrated about being taken away from her work in the middle of a major find. But the old man seemed more perceptive than one might initially give him credit for. He'd see through her story, and judging by his tenacity, wouldn't let up until he got some semblance of the truth.

Well fine then. She could at least grant him part of the story, leaving out the bits that she still hadn't quite figured out herself. "I've worked very hard to re-establish myself in the field of paleontology," she began. "My work with HEAT was no more than a diversion from what I really should have been doing."

"A diversion that lasted two years," Phillip noted.

"Exactly." Elsie fidgeted slightly. "With my work gaining more and more recognition among the scientific community, the last thing I need is to open the door to another two years of chasing giant man-eating chickens."

Phillip's brow furrowed. "I don't recall any-"

"There weren't any," the quick-witted woman quickly corrected, eyes rolling. "But that doesn't mean we never fought anything just as ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, they obviously posed enough of a threat to warrant your attention." Worthington swirled his glass of wine around a bit. "I wouldn't be so quick to discount your previous line of work."

Elsie fell silent for a moment, once again thinking carefully as to how to frame her answer. "I'm not discounting the work, per se. Just the means through which it was accomplished."

"You think HEAT was useless?" Phillip asked, skepticism hidden. "I suppose you'd say the M-Force is doing a better job?"

"No, and no," Elsie replied, frustration making its way into her voice as she felt cornered. "HEAT did a better job than the M-Force ever could."

"Then why the reluctance to go back?" the boardroom veteran asked, curious.

A slim finger absently twirled a strand of bright red hair as Elsie wondered if there was any accurate way of answering that question. She finally settled on an honest, if ambiguous, response. "It's complicated."

"Life is complicated my dear," Worthington brushed her off. "Doesn't mean we should hide under our beds, hoping it doesn't find us."

Didn't make much sense, but Elsie understood what he was getting at. "I'm not hiding…none of us are hiding," she said, referencing the other four members of the former mutant-hunting team. "Sometimes things just don't work out like everyone wants them to. Things started going downhill, and Nick ultimately chose to disband the team. It wasn't an easy decision, but in retrospect it was the best one. We've all moved on." Or at least she assumed they had. The behavioral expert didn't know much about what her former teammates were up to.

"Even hindsight can be clouded," Worthington sighed. "What looks best in retrospect isn't necessarily the best path one's life could have taken. Imagine how different everything would be could we go back and change just one cataclysmic choice…" the old man trailed off, the look on his face prompting the younger woman to wonder if he was still talking about her former team. She didn't get a chance to ask, however, as he quite literally shook himself out of it. "In any case, if I recall correctly, you left HEAT before Dr. Tatopoulos officially disbanded the team."

"I didn't leave," Elsie defended herself. "I just took a sabbatical, of sorts. A former, very respected colleague had asked for my opinion on some of his research. Invited me to come along to a symposium where he'd be presenting it…then a dig to see what else we could find…" the redhead trailed off, memories at once fond and painful bubbling up to the surface. "Before I even realized how much time had gone by, I got the call that I wouldn't need to return to New York."

Brown eyes regarded her carefully. "This mystery paleontologist you speak of wouldn't be Dr. Alexander Hall, would it?"

Elsie stiffened at the mention of her ex-husband. "Who it was doesn't matter."

Correctly gauging her reaction as confirmation of his suspicions, Worthington pressed on. "Putting that in perspective, do you still the choices made were for the best?"

The sharp-tongued woman immediately erected a solid wall of defense around herself, refusing to let her mind wander down that route. Reflecting on her failed marriage to Lex was painful enough on its own. She didn't need to add to it the "what if's?" from if she had turned down his offer and stayed with HEAT. So instead of acknowledging his rather personal inquiry, she turned the interrogation around on him. "How do you know so much about this?"

"I must confess that statement about leaving HEAT to work with Dr. Hall was merely a guess on my part," Phillip admitted. "But I kept tabs on the going-on's of the world's premier mutant control team. Not surprising, considering my corporation's crown jewel as far as subsidiaries go."

"You expected us to have to come clean up one of your messes?" Elsie inquired dryly.

"Not consciously, no," Worthington assured her. "But perhaps, subconsciously, I knew things would eventually go astray." He paused, mulling over something. "Or perhaps the presence of what was practically your sixth member intrigued me. With the chaos spreading around the world due to the exploding mutant population, I don't think I'm alone in wishing one was on our side," he finished wistfully.

Elsie was quiet, the expression on her face unreadable. "I don't think all mutants are inherently evil, or that it would be impossible to find one willing to co-exist peacefully with humans," she finally spoke up, before pausing again. "But even so, Godzilla was a special case. One that I don't think we'll see replicated anytime soon."

Phillip nodded, not eager to push the issue any farther. Instead, he checked his watch and glanced outside the window. "I've certainly enjoyed this very enlightening conversation, Dr. Chapman," he began, "but I'm afraid we'll have to pick it up some other time." He gestured to the sandy shores and small huts visible outside. "The Rice Coast beckons."

* * *

-Costa Rica- 

The midday rush combined with the especially sunny weather left the outdoor café in a whirl of chaos, successfully masked for the benefit of its patrons. A tall, Latino waiter jogged by the bar, whisking away a tray topped with drinks in the blink of an eye before scanning the packed patio for its recipient. Finding her, he slowed down his strides into an eased stroll before leaning down and presenting the tray. "Your pina colada, Senora."

"Thanks," Candace said, gratefully accepting the fruit drink from the courteous server. The blonde sipped a bit through her straw, eyes closing in pure bliss. She had only been to Costa Rica once before, but her most vivid memory by far was the quality of the tropical drinks. No matter how they may try, bartenders back in the states simply couldn't match the island mixers. Blue eyes fluttered open as she returned to reality, then narrowed. "Randy, stop harassing that poor lizard."

"I'm not harassing it," her husband defended himself. "We're just playing. Right little guy?" The small salamander in question only cocked its head, eyeing the stick in Randy's hand with great suspicion.

Candy regarded the recently fired software engineer skeptically. "Doesn't look like he's having fun."

Tearing off a piece of his sandwich, Randy tossed a bit down to the salamander's feet. "A peace offering," he explained to the animal. "How's that for ya?"

Sniffing the food, the black-spotted orange lizard turned up its nose before scurrying away into the nearby brush. Randy turned back to his lunch-mate. "Guess he's watching his carbs or something."

"Or he could just be fed up with you," Candace replied before taking another sip of her heavenly mixed drink. "You want one of these?"

"Naw, but a margarita would be nice," Randy suggested hopefully.

The blonde shook her head firmly. "No alcohol." She sent a cryptic smile his way. "You're enough of a handful when you're sober."

Sticking out his lower lip, Randy feigned hurt. "Can you blame me? We've been sitting here for almost an hour."

Sighing, Candy turned in her chair for the fiftieth time to survey the new patrons entering the café's vicinity. Finding no one she recognized, she turned back to Randy. "We'll wait just a little bit longer."

"Yeah, I'm sure Moneybags has a good reason." He finished off the last of his sandwich. "Think if we get the table cleared now, he'll treat us to lunch?"

"No more food," his wife replied, expression playful. "Getting fired doesn't give you an excuse to go chubby on me."

Randy shrugged. "Then I won't ask, but if he offers…well I'm not making any promises." He pushed crumbs around his plate with a toothpick. "Just who is this guy again?"

"Philip Worthington," Candace answered, tracing the outline of her glass with a straw. "CEO of Worthington Enterprises, and a major sponsor of the 'habitat.'"

The twenty-eight year old raised an eyebrow. "The one where our favorite mutants go to recover, or the one that shall not be named?"

"Well, technically both." Candy rested her chin in her left hand. "But it was his idea to come up with a more public institution that works with mutants in Roswell, to combat some rumors swirling around the base." The blonde shrugged. "Even if Uncle Sam did implement Worthington's suggestions on self-serving terms, I can't say I'm unhappy with the way things turned out. The reserve is the perfect place for smaller, benign mutants to recover from illness or injury while at the same time providing the public with an opportunity to learn that not all of these new steps in the evolutionary chain are bloodthirsty monsters."

"Try telling that to the people here," Randy muttered, noticing that mention of mutants had turned some heads in their direction. "I think we should steer the conversation in somewhere else. The whole mutant thing seems to be a touchy subject."

"Understandably," Candy replied, lowering her voice so as to not be heard. "But we can't tiptoe around the subject forever. That's why we're here."

"No, that's why you're here," the former hacker corrected. "I'm just tagging along because apparently I could use the vacation."

The older woman gave him a small smile. "I didn't hear you complaining." In fact, Randy hadn't even complained that much about losing his job in the first place, confirming Candy's suspicions that deep down, he was relieved to be out of there.

"It'll be a pretty boring vacation if I have to spend it by myself," Randy mused before looking at Candy. "How long do you think your 'business' here will take?"

She shrugged. "Worthington didn't say." Regarding her husband carefully, she attempted to gauge his true feelings about accompanying her on such a trip. She knew of a way to make his time in Costa Rica more exciting, but the scientist wasn't quite sure he'd be open to the idea. Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge anyway. "You know, Worthington was especially familiar with HEAT."

Randy stiffened. "So?"

"So," Candy continued, "he probably wouldn't be against the idea of you helping out. You do have more experience in the field than I do."

"Yeah, but you're an actual biologist," Randy pointed out. "I'm just a computer geek."

"A computer geek who spent two years chasing mutants around the world," the blonde smiled. "One who would have spent more years doing exactly that had he had the chance."

A bitter smile crossed the dredlocked man's face. "I had the chance. I just didn't take it."

Candy poked at her salad uncomfortably. "I'm sure Nick would've let you join him whenever you wanted."

"Nick would've," Randy conceded. "I just don't think the M-Force or the government would." He chuckled dryly. "Hacking under the supervision of someone who's willing to resort to extreme and possibly illegal measures himself is one thing. Doing it under the nose of Uncle Sam is another."

Even giving him that point, Candy still believed Randy could've maneuvered himself into mutant-chasing in a way similar to what Nick had done. In any case, she couldn't say she was sorry that he didn't. True, the M-Force made the occasional visit to Area 51, but she knew pursuing their initial long-distance relationship, as well as Randy's agreement to relocate to New Mexico, would have been much more difficult to accomplish were Randy globetrotting with his former boss. But thinking along those lines made her feel guilty, since it almost seemed like she was putting her own happiness above Randy's.

"Hey," the computer expert interjected softly, recognizing the slightly pained look on his wife's face. "You're not doing that whole guilt-trip thing about snatching me away from the mutant biz, are you?"

"No," Candace replied sheepishly, though she knew he'd see through her.

Confirming Candy's hunch, Randy rolled his eyes. "We've been through this before. I'd rather be stuck in a dead-end, boring as hell corporate rat race with you than going on mutant-filled adventures without ya."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Well now you may have both."

One dark hand scratched the back of the younger man's head awkwardly. "We'll see how well your rich friend here takes the idea."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Candace assured him before raising an eyebrow. A dark, obviously expensive designer suit had caught her eye. "Speak of the devil…"

Randy turned to squint at the unspecified location that currently held Candy's interest. "What? Where?"

"He's coming this way," the blonde explained, before pausing, both eyebrows arching in surprise. "Is that?"

"Dr. Kirk!" A cheerful voice boomed, cutting the unfinished statement off. "What a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise, Phillip." Candy glanced uneasily at her husband, who wore an expression of shock on his face. "It seems we both took the initiative to bring a friend," she mused dryly.

"That we did," the older gentlemen replied, surprised, yet clearly happy. "Dr. Chapman, don't you think it's a wonderful coincidence that-"

"Is this some kind of joke?" Phillip's companion sharply interrupted, causing Randy to wince. Someone sure wasn't happy to see him.

"No, no," Candy answered for Worthington, attempted to defuse what had already become an awkward, tense situation. "I brought Randy along without asking if it was alright."

The mentioned tag-a-long gave his former colleague a short wave. "Hola, chica. How's it going?"

"Just peachy." Elsie replied caustically. She was being unreasonably hard on Randy, but with every passing second this damn trip reminded her more and more of a life she had spent the last six years trying to forget. If Fate existed, it sure was having a hearty laugh at her expense.

"Ok then," Randy shrugged before glancing at Candace and then Phillip. "You know, maybe me tagging along isn't such a good idea."

"Nonsense," Worthington assured him. "I think you'd be an invaluable asset to our little team here." He smiled broadly at his new companions. "Despite the gravity of our goal here, I don't think it'd be a crime for us to enjoy ourselves a bit too. Think of this as an adventure."

'Right,' the youngest one thought weakly, noticing the expression on the redhead's face akin to undergoing root canal. 'Bet this little jungle-trip to hell will be fun for everyone.'

* * *

-New York, New York- 

_People shouting. Screaming. Panic._

_Something's not right._

_Head hurts. Chest hurts. Everything hurts._

_Legs ok?_

_No, but they'll work._

_What happened?_

_Rumbles..crash…fall._

_Fall to where?_

_Into a wall._

_What wall?_

_Doesn't matter. Someone else here. _

_Who?_

_Light…soft…curves…_

_Audrey...?_

-

Panicked cries echoed through the shaky walls of Solstice headquarters as employees raced towards the stairwells for fear that the top half of the building might be sliced off. The platinum blond CEO shouted at security through a cell phone, struggling against bodyguards that were muscling him towards an exit.

"What's going on?" Lila screamed, coughing as dust and debris leaked through the cracks in Winter's office door.

"We need to clear the building," a security guard barked, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

Mendel attempted to take advantage of the temporary distraction to push through the crowd and towards Winter's office. If Nick had any sense, he'd be out of there by now. Unless something was keeping him locked inside. Shaking his head, the robotist cleared the more morbid, pessimistic thoughts from his head. Nick was probably just hurt, and would need some help getting out. He had no reason to expect the need for a body bag.

Well not much of a reason.

"Excuse me sir," a voice firmly stated as one hand grabbed the blond's shoulder, "This entire floor has to be evacuated."

Hedging his bets, Mendel tried to talk his way out of being personally escorted down the stairs. "I have a colleague who's still up here. I just need to find him." He wiggled out of the guard's grasp. "Don't worry, I'll be out of here as soon as possible. I'm not suicidal."

"Staying here might be," the guard muttered before shaking his head. "I'm still going to need you to come with us. Someone will find your friend and bring him downstairs."

'No they wouldn't,' Mendel though, panicking. As far as anyone else knew, Winter's office was empty. No one would check to see if anyone was in there. Several minutes had passed since the attack with no sign of Nick. Mendel knew he'd want to keep his snooping undercover, but he also knew Nick wasn't stupid enough to stay in a collapsing top story. Something was wrong, and despite their less than amiable current relationship, Mendel certainly didn't want the biologist dead.

"Carter!" a scratchy voice traveled through the guard's walkie-talkie. "We've got an injury here. Suite 3012. Get over here now!"

The security guard sighed, temporarily admitting defeat. "I have to go, but I'm trusting you to get down those stairs right now. Am I clear?"

"Sure," Mendel replied weakly, hoping the other man wouldn't notice his eyes dart back towards Winter's office doors.

-

Cerulean eyes clouded with pain and disorientation opened to survey their surroundings. The first thing they registered was the gaping hole in the wall in front of them. A more careful survey, however, revealed that they were actually _in_ the wall. Gray, dusty chunks of drywall covered two almost unmoving figures, as if to reinforce the point of their current predicament.

Groaning, Nick attempted to force himself into an upright sitting position, but found himself unable to do so thanks to the weight lying unceremoniously on top of him. He blinked, mind once again flashing back to memories of who that would once be, but the new focused image in front of him dissolved any illusions of a blonde siren. For one thing, the woman draped across his chest, while beautiful enough to lure an unsuspecting sailor into a watery prison, had dark hair that fell out of its formerly tight-knit bun. She was also a bit paler than the woman of his lucid dreams, not to mention taller. And her face…her face was all too familiar.

Swallowing, the brunette tried to clear the chaos inside his mind, fueled by questions that he had a feeling would remain unanswered. Why was she here? Why did he ever have to see her again in the first place? First Mendel, now this second specter from the ruins of a sunken dream. But this one had slipped away as discretely as she'd slid into that reverie. He never thought he'd hear of her, let alone come face to face with her again. How exactly had Fate managed to twist their paths into enough of a gnarled mess to make them cross again? He glanced down. Unless she knew something about it…

She's not moving.

Nick shifted slightly, easing the still figure onto the floor, yet allowing it to continue to rest against him. Sliding one arm around her body to support her back, he used the other to lightly shake her shoulder. Actions earning him no response, he bit his lip before trying again. "Monique?"

Nothing.

He brushed errant strands of hair out of her face, freezing when a familiar, sticky-wet sensation coated his fingers. Crimson stained both his hands and her hair, turning raven locks into a damp mass that stuck to the side of her head. Gingerly moving her hair out of the way, Nick finally managed a thorough view of the injury. "Shit…"

A hefty piece of drywall or concrete must have hit her during their trip into the inner workings of the skyscraper. She probably had a concussion, if she was lucky. Cynical it may be, Nick had had more than his fair share of exposure to gruesome field injuries at the hand of even docile mutations to come to that conclusion.

So what now?

Try to help of course. True, her sudden presence in a New York office building at the exact same time as him was pretty incomprehensible, but who was he to claim to understand how the French secret service worked? Winter was probably involved in some less-than-ethical hijinks that crossed the Atlantic. Wouldn't surprise him.

In any case, he could play detective later, if he so pleased. Monique was an old friend, albeit one that he hadn't seen in six years, and she was seriously injured. He needed to find a bandage of sorts to stop the bleeding. Fingering the fabric of his shirt, he decided against going that route. Besides being one of the nicer elements of his wardrobe, the relatively thin fabric would not do much to mitigate the bleeding.

The ground shook again as more screams filtered through the crevice in the side of the building. Nick temporarily left his fallen former comrade's side to glance outside, only catching the tip of a large, scaled tail. Whatever was going on, he didn't have much time to waste. Rich was probably cursing at the silence he undoubtedly received while trying to dial Nick's crushed cell, bits and pieces of which dropped ungracefully from his coat pocket. Taking a deep breath, the brunette murmured an apology to the unconscious woman before lifting off her cotton shirt. Turning his head, he ripped off a few streaks of cloth that he promptly wrapped around her forehead. A rapidly shedded overcoat added the final touch as Nick pulled it tight around her shallowly breathing form. Picking her up and rising to his feet, he grit his teeth as his body howled at him in protest. He may not have blood dripping from his crown, but the strong ache that coursed through him argued against him escaping unscathed.

A primal, animalistic screech reverberated through the air, prompting Nick to almost drop Monique for want of covering his ears with his hands. Shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, the biologist ignored the now dulled pain in his legs as he shakily pressed forward, regaining more of his balance with every step. Whether he himself needed medical attention was inconsequential. It was time to go to work.

-

"Nick? Nick!"

No response.

Mendel ran one hand over the other in nervousness. Maybe he couldn't hear him. The mahogany doors that formed the portal to Winter's office were very thick, or at least they seemed to be. He raised a fist and knocked soundly on the door. "Are you in there?"

Still nothing.

'Great,' the robotist thought, eyes glancing back to where security would no doubt appear in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds. If he was going to get Nick out of there, without either of them getting caught, he'd have to act immediately. A chubby hand grasped the door handle and turned.

Unfortunately, on the other side, a foot decided to kick down the door at the exact same moment.

Retreating from both shock and physical force, Mendel shook his head to get his bearings back. "What the hell did you do that for? I was trying to come help you!"

Nick blinked. "I didn't know you were still here."

"Why wouldn't I be?" the blond asked, stepping back even more once he noticed the dusty, drywall covering on his former colleague. Great, just great. The city's being attacked by a giant, screeching mutant, and on top of that, he's about to suffer an asthma attack. At least he had the good sense to bring a warm coat so he wouldn't catch cold on top of that. Speaking of coats…"Hey what happened to your…" Mendel trailed off, eyes finally coming to rest on the bundled up form in Nick's dark overcoat. "What the-"

"I wasn't the only one trying out my espionage skills in Winter's office," the biologist explained dryly, eyes darting down to the face that rested against his chest. Mendel probably couldn't see. Shifting the figure in his arms, Nick continued. "Though I don't think my skills in the clandestine come anywhere close to her's."

Brown eyes widened in shock. "That's, that's-"

"I know," Nick replied. "And before you ask, no, I don't know why she's here or what she was doing hiding behind a bookshelf."

"How'd you find her?" the professor asked, curiosity temporarily overcoming his surprise.

A dry laugh. "Great minds think alike." Leaving the cryptic reply at that, Nick started to jog towards the stairs, jerking his head in a motion for Mendel to follow. "She's hurt – a head injury. We need to get her to a hospital."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine," the brunette answered dismissively. "A little sore, but believe me, I've had worse." Taking the stairs two at a time, he had to pause to regain his balance. Carrying Monique had thrown off his center of gravity, and he hadn't given himself the time to relocate it. Nick turned his head slightly to look at Mendel. "Do you have a cell phone on you?"

"Yeah," the huffing and puffing man replied. "Why?"

"Do you know Rich's number?" Nick asked, increasing his pace down the stairs. Thirty-five flights was no cakewalk, even going down instead of up.

"No," wheezed Mendel. "And before you ask, I don't know Jonah's either."

Saying nothing in response, the M-Force collaborator simply turned on his heels and barged through the door to the thirtieth level.

"Um, where are we going?" the blond asked in confusion as he followed the brunette's fast-paced footsteps.

Nick nodded towards the elevator coming into view. "You feeling lucky, or, at the very least, not cursed?"

Mendel froze, deadpan. "You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately, I am," Nick replied, finally reaching the lift and punching the down button with his left elbow.

"The elevators aren't safe!"

"And the stairs are too slow," the younger man explained. "If this building is in danger of collapsing, I think it'd do it by the time we reached the bottom. Besides," he observed, watching Mendel carefully. "It looks like you could use a break."

Opting to simply give his former boss a dirty look, Mendel said nothing in reply.

"Do you mind holding her?" Nick asked, bringing Monique back to the center of attention as he adjusted her position in his arms. "All this running must've diverted blood flow from my arms or something, because they're starting to hurt."

Sighing in resignation, the robotist awkwardly accepted the transfer of the unconscious Frenchwoman. "Where are you taking her?"

Nick shrugged. "_I'm_ not taking her anywhere. In case you didn't notice, we've got another unexpected visitor."

"So you're just going to drop her off on a street corner?" Mendel indignantly inquired. Sure he and Monique had never been more than just colleagues, but he wouldn't leave her out to dry. And if he recalled correctly from HEAT's swan song months, Nick was closer to Monique than he was. Maybe he should be thankful it wasn't him that apparently had his head bashed through a wall.

A deep, gravelly voice cut through his thoughts. "I'm not abandoning her," the biologist clarified. "But I can't see to her safety personally once I have to start dealing with whatever crisis is currently going on." He leaned against the elevator wall, eyes fixed on the bundle wrapped in his coat. "Rich or Solstice security has probably already called in the authorities. We can give Monique to someone there."

Mendel looked uneasy. "Think that might interfere with, well, her 'work?'"

"Tough," came the response as Nick scoffed. "I just dug her out of a hole in the wall. If she's so concerned about the sanctity of whatever mission she's on here, then when she wakes up, she should ask me to put her back in it." He about-faced at the stunned look Mendel gave him. "I'm just kidding…"

"Right," he agreed warily, still eyeing Nick strangely.

The brunette rolled his eyes. "You can't honestly believe I would stick an injured woman back into a crushed wall just because she complained about me rescuing her."

Shrugging, the robotist only said, "You've changed."

A look of indignation spreading across his features, Nick immediately became defensive. "Well so have you!"

"How?" Mendel asked, quirking his head in curiosity.

The biologist bit his lip. "I don't know," he mumbled. "But you have. Everyone changes. It's inevitable."

"Sure," the blond shrugged. "But some people change for the better."

Not willing to let the weighty implication slide, Nick glared at his former colleague. "Where do you get off telling me I've-"

"I don't think I said anything about you," Mendel evenly replied, remaining steadfast in his response. "Just that some people don't adjust as well to the curveballs life throws them than others."

"Just like some people are the ones throwing those jagged curveballs at their friends, right?" came the icy reply.

"Yeah," Mendel said quietly. "I guess so."

Sighing, Nick turned to the side, not willing to let an argument over long-dug graves cloud his focus. Something was attacking the city. Something big, scaly, and _loud_. Hopefully Rich had had the sense to alert the military by this time. As far as he knew, there were no M-Force agents stationed nearby, so the armed forces would be the next best thing.

The elevator's light ding alerted the pair to the fact that they were now on the ground floor. Metal doors slide apart to reveal chaos on. Surprisingly, Winter was still around, being manhandled by security guards as he refused to leave. Nick raised an eyebrow. There was obviously _something_ important hidden away here so that Winter would want to return to the top story of a wrecked skyscraper.

He didn't, however, have time to ponder over his suspicions any longer. Rich came running up to him, eyes wide and clearly flustered. "Where have you been?"

"Stuck on the top floor," Nick replied, brushing past him and jogging outside to survey the situation. A few crushed cars, imprints in the street, and gashes in the sides of buildings, but luckily, there didn't appear to be any casualties. Or at least there weren't any yet. Nick's time in the Force had taught him the hard way that time was of the essence in responding to new mutant threats. "Have you contacted the military yet? Or Hicks?"

"Both," Rich answered, shouting to be heard over the almost deafening din. "The Air Force is on the way." The agent glanced back to the unexpected guest tech expert that had accompanied them. And then stared more intently at what said expert carried in his arms. "Who's the girl?"

An uncertain look crossed Mendel's face, as he looked to Nick for guidance on how to best handle that question.

"She's someone who needs to get to a hospital," the M-Force collaborator answered for his former friend, not willing to waste too much time on the situation with Monique. He'd make sure she'd get much needed treatment, and then she'd slip back out of his life once again. As would Mendel. But that would come later. Right now, he needed to track down their new arrival. Nick frowned. Just where did he go? It certainly couldn't be that easy for an oversized mutant to hide in a city, even one like New York.

"What's her name?" Rich was apparently still hung up on the unconscious woman.

"Doesn't matter," Nick answered tightly, not wanting an angered secret agent on his tail for blowing her probable cover. "Just send her over to some paramedics and have them keep an eye on her after she gets up. Don't worry about her after that. She can take care of herself." He paused for a moment, remembering his conversation with Mendel in the elevator. "And I don't say that because I'm cold-hearted or anything like that. She wouldn't want someone fussing over her, much less some Americans she doesn't even know."

The M-force agent regarded his informal superior curiously. "I take it you know her?"

"You could say that," Nick muttered, the mirroring of his response to his recent words regarding Mendel not lost on him. He gestured towards a nearby paramedic, who had recently arrived on the scene after word of a mutant attack. "Can you see to it that my friend over there gets taken care of?" he asked, pointing towards Monique.

The paramedic hesitated. "The guy or the girl?"

"Seeing as the girl's unconscious I would think her needs would be a bit more pressing," Nick retorted, not able to bit off the snarky answer. "If the man needs medical attention, by all means give it to him, but I think he's fine."

"Dr. Tatopoulos!" a voice called urgently. Nick turned around to see a uniformed, middle-aged man pacing towards him. "Colonel Jeb Stuart, Air Force."

"Afternoon Colonel," the brunette nodded curtly. "Your boys caught sight of our new friend yet?"

"As a matter of fact they have," Stuart replied, gesturing for Nick to follow. "It's heading towards Greenwich village. We need to get a move on ASAP. I'd rather not have angry store owners or University staff bitching about property damage courtesy of yet another mutant."

Nick couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The colonel was apparently someone he could sympathize with. "You got a way of getting us over there quickly?"

"Right here," the officer responded, nodding towards an armored helicopter. "You got any of your people you want tagging along?"

The biologist nodded before calling over Rich. Once the fellow agent had boarded the copter, the colonel shut the door and signaled the pilot to speed towards the heart of the hurricane that had erupted in the middle of Manhattan.

-

"This is the temporary sick ward we've set up," Bryan, the paramedic, explained to Mendel as they eased Monique onto a sturdy cot. The marked off area was relatively sparsely populated for now, as most seemed to have escaped the initial mutant aggression without serious injury. "Do you know what happened to her?"

The blond shook his head. "No, but Nick mentioned something about being thrown into a wall."

"Well that'd do it," Bryan remarked wryly, looking over Monique's battered form. "Did he accompany her on this trip into the wall?"

"Don't know," Mendel replied, shrugging. "But he was covered in drywall dust, so he probably did."

"He need to be checked out?" the Asian man asked as he gingerly unwrapped Monique's t-shirt bandage in order to get a better look at the injury.

"He looked fine to me," Mendel began, "but I wouldn't be surprised if that were for show." The robotist shrugged. "That's his choice though. If he thinks playing M-Force soldier is more important than his own health, then that's not our problem."

"Fair enough," Bryan replied. He glanced towards the back of the tent. "I think I can take care of the lady here. In the far left there's a friend of your's, or so he claims to be." He looked at Mendel critically. "You are the blond Carnegie Mellon robotics professor, right? You match the description he gave and you were with Dr. Tatopoulos."

"Who…?" Mendel trailed off before he caught a glimpse of the spiry figure lying in the back. A sigh escaped his lips as he rose and trudged over towards the occupied cot. "Of course. Who else?"

"Who else indeed Dr. C," Jonah replied cheerfully. He gestured towards the splint on his leg. "Despite my rather high opinion of myself, it seems I don't hold up very well under the weight of a falling brick wall."

"Are you ok?" the older man asked, genuinely concerned. Sure Jonah was annoying but he didn't want him dead, or even close to it. A brick wall falling on one's leg sounded painful, to say the least.

Jonah waved off his concern. "I'll be fine." He patted his chest confidently, grinning from ear to ear despite the seriousness of the situation. "I'm not indestructible, but the man upstairs is going to have to try a lot harder to take me down for good."

"Nice to know your ego's intact," Mendel commented, smiling despite himself.

"Just like it's nice to know you're still not above taking the occasional shot at your buddy here." The tech expert shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable in the makeshift hospital bed. "So how were things going before El Nino stormed into town? Winter as big a son of a bitch as I hear he is?"

The blond shrugged. "Probably, but I can't say for sure. We never really talked to him."

Lying back, Jonah closed his eyes in an attempt to relax his rather tense body. "Ah. So you spend your time reminiscing about the good old days with Dr. T?" He opened one eye to smirk at his companion.

"You could say that," Mendel muttered, countenance immediately darkening.

Jonah sat up again to peer at his contemporary critically. "I take it things didn't go so well?"

"Well it wasn't the worst that could've happened," the professor admitted. "But it definitely wasn't the best way things could've gone either."

"I know the feeling," the younger man sympathized. "There some bad blood between you two?"

"I guess so," Mendel replied, regret clearly written across his face. "I don't think Nick ever forgave me for leaving."

That didn't make much sense, in Jonah's humble opinion. "Didn't others bail too?" he asked. "I know Dr. Chapman did, and so did that, um, insurance lady?"

Mendel blinked. Insurance lady? His eyes traveled towards the fallen Frenchwoman now being treated by a pair of paramedics. Oh. Right. "Yeah the insurance lady left too," he slowly stated. "But Elsie never officially quit, even if she did spend all her time on digs with Lex." The underlying bitterness that crept into Mendel's voice as he spoke of the male paleontologist's name was not lost on Jonah, but he wisely decided against pursuing the matter.

The blond paused for a moment, clearly lost in some episode of the past before continuing to explain. "Even so, I was the first one to up and leave. I didn't really give him much notice, and once I did it the others weren't as wary of doing the exact same thing." Lowering his voice, Mendel tapped the reserves of his mind for his evolving opinion on the root of Nick's hostility. "I think Nick was just afraid his team was falling apart. That after working so hard to establish HEAT as the best response to any mutant threat, it was all going to hell."

"It was all going to hell just because you left?" Jonah asked skeptically. "Trust me, I hold the deepest respect for your abilities, expertise, and value in the field – otherwise, I never would've dragged you here. But I still find that hard to believe."

Shaking his head, the former member of HEAT attempted to clarify. "It wasn't just me." He paused again, thinking hard. "In fact, had I left a month or so earlier, I think don't think there'd be so many hard feelings." He once again grew quiet, drawing upon recollections that were painful for everyone involved. "But after Godzilla died, HEAT's usefulness was taken down a significant peg or two. Sure we knew how to innovatively and effectively respond to mutant threats, but without our biggest ally, we had to rely heavily on military support. That in and of itself was a huge blow to what Nick initially made HEAT out to be." A dry laugh caught in Mendel's throat. "Ironically enough, he doesn't seem to have a problem with it now."

"A product of circumstance I suppose," the tech expert interjected, half-defending Nick. "It doesn't look like he has any other options."

"He could have moved on," Mendel interrupted, firm in his opinion. "Everyone else has." The small, knowing smile that was now creeping up Jonah's face irritated the robotist. "What!"

The dark-haired man assumed an air of objective, professional disinterest. "You say you've moved on," he began, "but somehow, you've been thrown back into the mutant-filled loop, despite your best efforts to avoid it. Maybe Nick just realized this was his true calling before any of the rest of you did."

"I would hardly call this being thrown back into the loop," Mendel corrected. "I just happened to be at the site of a mutant attack, at the same time as Nick and another M-Force agent. Nothing too extraordinary there." He shrugged. "But you have a point. Maybe this is Nick's 'true calling,' I don't know. But it's definitely not mine."

Jonah smiled politely as he conceded. "Whatever you say." He didn't believe him, but he also wasn't willing to get into an argument in a cheap tent-turned treatment center. 'Somehow, though,' he thought, 'I get the feeling you'll be singing a different tune in a matter of weeks.'

-

"Do you know exactly where we're going?" Nick asked, squinting out the side of the helicopter.

"Following the path of destruction seems easy enough," Colonel Stuart replied wryly, eyes on the crushed roads below.

Well he had a point there. "Have you been contacted by Major Hicks? Is the Army sending anyone?" He knew it wouldn't be viewed by the military as 100 percent necessary, but some ground-based artillery might be useful.

"Hicks is caught up on other business," Rich answered, even though the question hadn't been directed at him. "We can ask for backup from the Army but they seem to think the Air Force has got this under control."

"That we do," Stuart confirmed, eyes glued to what he could see out the window. Rising, he made his way into the cockpit before calling to the two M-Force representatives. "Looks like we found 'im boys."

Nick slide open the door, holding tightly onto the side as he leaned out of the helicopter. The sight that greeted him would certainly go down as one of the more bizarre scenes he'd witnessed in his lifetime.

He couldn't identify any normal creature that could be considered a "blueprint" for this mutation. If he had to name anything it looked most like a lizard of some sort, although the similarities ended with the head and body. Its four legs were towering trunks that almost seemed too thin to support the massive torso. Light greenish-blue scales covered its entire body, pointing to reptilian origins. The webbing on its neck and feet, however, made Nick suspect it was amphibious in nature as well. The head was round and stout, with a large mouth opening to reveal surprisingly dull teeth. All in all, it was a gangly, awkward-looking creature.

"What the heck is it?" Rich asked from behind Nick's shoulder.

"I don't know." Nick turned to the colonel. "Any chance you could bring us closer?"

The colonel made the appropriate remarks to the pilot before the copter swung in nearer to the beast. At a better vantage point, Nick could make out the dull, glazed look in its eyes that widened only when the creature stumbled, apparently holding a poor grasp on the specter known as balance. Its head turned to the side, surveying the city with a sort of muted interest before letting out small cry of distress.

"It seems confused," the biologist observed. "And it's not displaying any signs of aggression."

"Um hello?" Rich asked, clearly bewildered. "What do you call that attack on Solstice headquarters?"

Before Nick could respond, the mutant flicked its tail, unwittingly tearing through another nearby office building. Surprised, it stumbled back, away from what had made its already aching and bleeding tail feel worse.

"I don't think that was an attack, per se," Nick explained. "It doesn't look like it knows what it's doing, or what's going on right now."

The mutation's subsequent behavior only confirmed the brunette's hypothesis, as it peered curiously at the jets swirling around it. It ducked as one made an arc a bit too close to its head for its liking, but all in all it reacted very passively to what other mutants would correctly recognize as a threat.

"Since it's not displaying any kind of hostility right now," Nick shouted over the whirr of the helicopter blades. "I don't think provoking it via an air strike is a good idea."

The colonel was clearly skeptical, but decided to humor the supposed expert. "Then what do you suggest we do? Ask it if it will pretty please go away?"

"Something like that," the former oligachaetologist replied, stepping back into the full protection of the aircraft. "Our best bet right now is to try and lure it away from the city." He glanced out the window at the creature that was now making its way down the street. "The webbing makes me think it's at least partly amphibious in nature. Maybe we should lure it out to ocean for now." Nick then turned to Rich. "Contact Hicks, or M-Force headquarters if you can't reach him. Arrange for a transport to Monster Island."

"I'll see what I can do," Rich said hesitantly, knowing the current M-Force leadership preferred to terminate new mutations rather than house then on the already crowded island. "I'm not making any promises."

"They give you any flack, tell them to talk to me." The former leader of HEAT had had eight years of experience in dealing with stubborn officials who believed every mutant belonged in an oversized grave. Facing the colonel, he asked, "Is there any chance you could set us on the ground?"

Stuart shook his head. "I'm afraid this thing moves too fast for us to hope to keep up on foot. We'll stay close." Raising an eyebrow, he then asked, "Now how exactly do you plan on luring it into the Atlantic?"

"Well it depends," Nick began, "we don't know what it eats so bait is out of the question. It's a safe bet, however, to assume it will have either a positive or negative reaction to bright light."

The colonel wasn't following. "And we would use this how…?"

"The M-Force has used vehicles and air craft with large light panels on the side for this kind of thing before," the biologist explained. "We fly one up to it and set off bulbs flashing in front of its eyes. If it's attracted to light, it'll follow the copter wherever it goes. If it's repelled, it'll take a little more maneuvering to chase it into the ocean."

"How long until this mobile light show can get here?" Stuart asked.

"I'm working on it," Nick replied in a slightly irritated tone while fiddling with Rich's radio in hopes of finding the right frequency for the nearby M-Force base.

Colonel Stuart stared at the brunette for a moment before picking up the speaker to the on-board radio. "Major Lee? Start the air-strike."

Nick almost dropped the mic he was holding in shock. "What?" he cried. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of the problem," Stuart replied evenly, no sympathy audible in his voice. "I have to think about how many lives waiting for your bait might cost."

"Lives?" the M-Force representative asked, livid. "It hasn't cost any lives yet. You can find dachshunds more aggressive than this thing!"

"Aggressive or not, we have to take it down." The colonel said, moving to the open door to get a better view of the action.

The first few missiles took the creature by surprise, opening gaping wounds and tearing through its flesh. Distraught, it roared in pain and stumbled away, trying to flee from its attackers. Another fighter jet flew up behind it, poised to strike. The mutation disposed of it with one swift movement of its tail, sending the aircraft into the side of a department store.

"It's running back towards the water," Nick muttered to Rich. "We can only hope it gets there before the cavalry tears it apart."

Indeed, the beast was making a beeline towards the body of water from which it had emerged, hoping to find sanctuary within its depths. A sharp stab of pain in its back, however, stopped it in its tracks. Enraged, it turned to face the craft that had taken it upon itself to give chase to the frightened creature.

Two more missiles found their targets, one tearing straight through its shoulder blade while another embedded itself in its abdomen. Struggling to stay upright, the mutation swayed dangerously close to toppling onto an apartment building.

Noting this, Nick chose to chew out the colonel. "You said you wanted to prevent the unnecessary loss of human life? You kill it here and it'll destroy any nearby buildings when it falls on them."

"It'd destroy those buildings on its own," Stuart retorted, unconcerned. "The thing staggers around like it's drunk."

Lacking a suitable response, Nick fell quiet again as he watched the continued assault on what had been a benign, if misguided mutation. The creature opened its mouth, pink, narrow tongue lashing about furiously. An unfamiliar jet tore between the paths of two others, heading straight for the open crevice. Rich's eyes widened in shock. "What does he think he's doing?"

The jet's actions spoke for itself as it pulled up at the last minute after launching a large, silver-gray parcel into the mutant's throat. Choking, it hacked uncontrollably, almost collapsing as it tried to dislodge the unwelcome entity.

Nick was confused. "What was that for?"

That question was answered as a loud ticking was heard, followed by the detonation of the delivered explosive, tearing the mutant's throat apart from the inside out.

* * *

-Costa Rica- 

Verdant jungle foliage, soaked with drops from a recent shower, scraped along the canvas top of the Jeep that plowed through the uneven terrain. Birds took flight from their perches and animals scattered as soon as the noisy behemoth came into view. Idly, Elsie hoped they could only be so lucky with the mutation that lived there as well.

"So the two of you are married?" Worthington asked brightly, addressing the pair sitting opposite him and Elsie.

Candy nodded. "Four years next month."

"You make quite the pair." He glanced almost uncertainly at Elsie before asking his next question, as he didn't want to open up any sore wounds. "Did you meet on one of HEAT's trips to New Mexico?"

"That we did," Candy replied, "though we didn't really start dating until after the team disbanded."

"Of course." The Jeep remained silent for a moment, the with only the sounds of the occasional branch scraping its side or underbrush getting crushed by its wheel being heard.

Randy cleared his throat. If there was one thing he hated more than being cooped up in a crowded vehicle, it was awkward silences. No need to subject himself to two tortures at once. Feeling brave, he turned to Elsie. "So…" he started, hoping she wouldn't bite his head for being too conversational, "how have things been going with you?"

Luckily, Elsie had calmed down from the initial shock of working with her former teammate and now presented a decidedly neutral, vaguely interested front. "Ok I guess. We discovered a possible Carnotaurus in Argentina."

"You mean the thing in the Zodiac?" Randy asked, unwrapping a granola bar for a quick energy boost.

Elsie blinked. "You know, I really should introduce you to Jimmy." She shook her head at his confused look. "Never mind."

Randy shrugged. Not like he'd know anything about dinosaurs. "Kept in touch with anyone from the team? Dr. C maybe?"

After remaining quiet for a moment, Elsie shook her head. "No. Mendel and I haven't spoken in years." There was something decidedly wistful in her tone, though not so much longing as it was regret. No one liked to lose contact with a close friend. "Have you heard from him?"

"Naw," the younger man answered. "The only person I still talk to is Nick."

Not even a little surprised, Elsie nodded. That made sense. "How's he been?"

"Ok I guess," Randy said with a mouth full of granola.

"Don't talk with your mouth full dear," Candy reprimanded, not looking up from the book she was reading.

"Sorry," he mumbled, before swallowing. "Nick's been working with the M-Force."

A red eyebrow arched. "You mean he actually joined?"

"No, not really," the ex-hacker replied. "I don't know what the exact details are, but he's kind of a consultant. He usually works with the Force, though he takes on jobs for individual governments or private clients now and then."

"Oh." Elsie looked at Randy thoughtfully. "Funny, but I thought I'd see you working with him."

Candy glanced at her husband, wondering both if he'd respond to that, and more importantly, how. His decision hadn't been an easy one and she wasn't sure Randy wanted to revisit that worn path.

Apparently, however, he was willing to do it for now. "After Nick officially disbanded the team, I went back to school full-time and got a job as an intern at a software company. We stayed in touch, and a month or so later Nick called with an offer to come with him on a mission that the Peruvian government had enlisted his expertise for. At the time he had actually gone back to studying his worms, but he decided to put that on temporary hold to help them out. I turned him down that time, since I had midterms."

Randy paused to take a sip from his wife's canteen. "But then the next mission came up, and the next after that. It seemed Nick's name was still out there, even if HEAT no longer existed. Every so often, he'd get a call, tuck the worms away, and go chase mutants. And every time, at least in the beginning, he asked me if I wanted to come."

Putting the canteen down, he continued, lowering his voice as it became twinged with the smallest hint of regretful nostalgia. "I went him with to Thailand during spring break. But neither of us was sure how stable an arrangement this would be. It wasn't a _real_ job." The dark-haired man shrugged. "Nick was willing to take his chances, but I decided to play it safe. He already had to do a lot of sweet-talking to get some people to let me come along in the first place. It just made sense that I should give it up and focus on finishing school and becoming an official member of the rat race."

Elsie absorbed the new information. "So where do you work?"

Chuckling sheepishly, he replied, "Well I _used_ to work at Zolcroft."

"Used to?"

Randy eyes darted away from Elsie's critical gaze. "There was some…unpleasantness. But not the kind you're thinking of," he quickly added, noting the look on Elsie's face. "The boss thought I got snippy with a customer, which I didn't."

"It's a good thing hon," Candy said, joining in on the conversation. "You hated it there. Time to move on to new and better things."

A connection made itself clear in Elsie's mind. "That why you're here?"

Candy nodded. "I thought he could use a little break before heading back to the corporate world."

"Some break," the redhead snorted. "Chasing a man-eating nighttime predator."

"Trust me," Randy began, "It's an improvement over my old job. A big one."

Elsie didn't doubt that. She'd heard enough horror stories about corporate America from her friends. Made her thankful for her line of work, even if it forced her to inhale an unholy amount of dust while digging in the dirt.

"We're coming up on the clearing in which they found the last victim," Worthington interjected, noting a break in the conversation. It wasn't that he didn't want the former colleagues to get reacquainted, far from it. But they did have a job to do, and he wanted to get it done quickly, so that Elsie would not become too irate over missing her work.

"How much longer till we get there?" Randy asked, noticing the ride dragging on too long for his taste.

Phillip spoke rapidly to the driver in Spanish before answering, though Randy had understood the conversation. "A few more minutes…" he trailed off before a large, fallen tree trunk came into view, blocking the SUV's path. "Or on second thought, perhaps a bit more than that."

Candace peered at the fallen structure. "Think this is a result of the storm?"

"Guess again," Elsie remarked, pointing to claw marks clearly visible in the plant's side. "Looks like something thought this tree would be better off in a horizontal position."

"Something big," Randy muttered, noting how the trunk had been ripped from the ground. "Think we've found a clue?"

The paleontologist didn't answer, instead opening the door and getting out of the Jeep to investigate. The others followed suit, sinking a bit into the muddy ground. Elsie ran her hand across the fallen tree, pausing a bit when her fingers ran over a sticky substance. Candy noticed it too. "Tree sap?"

Elsie shook her head. "I don't think so. It's not viscous enough." She turned to face Worthington, who was still standing by the Jeep. "Can you toss me a small biohazard bag? And maybe something to scrape this off with?"

He complied, after which the redhead carefully sponge the mystery substance into the bag. Sealing it, she remarked, "It may just be from one of the natural residents, but a little lab analysis wouldn't hurt."

A rustling could be heard to the side. An alarmed look crossed Candy's face. "What was that?"

The same rustling, closer this time. Randy swallowed nervously. "That pet project of your's," he asked Worthington, "he only comes out at night, right?" They had left the few weapons they brought along in the Jeep. Though it was only a few steps away, he doubted they'd be able to reach them in time should the need for self-defense against a bloodthirsty lab experiment gone wrong arise.

Candy moved closer to the parked SUV, willing to take her chances at grabbing a tranquilizer should be they attacked. Heart racing, she bumped against the cool steel of the Jeep, fingers twitching in anticipation.

Fortunately, the source of the rustling was not a hungry predator. Unfortunately, it wasn't that much of a step up.

A man wearing a dark green uniform stepped into view, brushing bits of leaves off his shoulders before addressing Worthington and Co. "I'm Brett Barnes, Agent 452 of the M-Force." He flashed an ID to confirm his identity. "And I'm afraid you're trespassing in a restricted area."

"Oh my," Phillip feigned shock. "I didn't realize we weren't allowed to be here."

Brett nodded curtly. "It's ok sir, but we'll need to escort you back to the village. It's not safe out here."

"We're well aware of the risks," Worthington explained. "We were only hoping to do a little investigating of our own. The last time I checked, that was perfectly legal."

"You might want to double-check whatever gave you that idea," a woman's voice called out, as Brett's partner made her way through the underbrush. "Only M-Force and Costa Rican officials are allowed here. Right Brett?" Receiving no answer, she paused, tempted to wave a hand in front of her partner's face. "Brett?"

"Don't I know you?" he asked, looking between Elsie and Randy strangely.

"I don't believe we've met," the paleontologist answered honestly.

The agent didn't let up. "I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before…"

"Maybe you just thought you did," Randy quickly cut him off, wary of where the man's train of thought was heading. "We're just a rag-tag bunch of bored tourists, looking for an adventure." It was a poor cover story, but the best the software engineer could come up with off the top of his head.

"Right," Brett agreed, not voicing the internal revelation that had gone off in his head. "In any case, you need to come with us."

Sandra, the other agent, pulled apart some large leaves to reveal another SUV parked nearby. "You can follow us back to town."

Candy glanced to Phillip for guidance. He leaned down towards her ear and spoke quietly. "Just do what they say for now. We'll get around this later." He motioned for the others to pile into the Jeep before calling to the two agents. "We'll be fine. We know the way back."

"Then you won't mind if we follow you?" Brett asked, not quite willing to trust them.

The old man smiled. "I certainly can't stop you. Suit yourself." With that, he shut the Jeep door and signaled the driver to turn around and peel away.

Watching the Jeep disappear into the distance, Sandra started back towards their vehicle. "Well? Aren't we following them?"

"Yeah," the male agent agreed, two steps behind his partner. "But after we make sure they get back to town, we've got a phone call to make."

She regarded him oddly. "Think this was that big a deal? Sure they're overly curious, but if we keep an eye on them I don't see them doing much harm."

Brett shook his head. "Trust me," he said, "Dr. Tatopoulos is going to want to hear about this."

* * *

-New York, New York- 

Wiping bits of sprayed mutant flesh from his face, Nick cursed his decision to not close the helicopter hatch and felt his hold on his temper slip even further. "What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded, glaring at Colonel Stuart.

"I took care of the situation," he replied coolly before lifting the speaker to his radio again. "Lee? We're going to need a clean-up crew."

Blue eyes traveled downwards and across the gargantuan form that now lay motionless in the street, head completely torn off. On the ground, bystanders gagged from the sight and stench, some doubling over and vomiting on the grass. The jets had disappeared and New York City law enforcement was doing its best to clear the area for a biohazard clean-up effort.

Rich shrugged, holding onto a nearby bar as the helicopter started to fly back to their pick-up point near Solstice Technologies. "Monster Island is getting too crowded anyway."

Nick turned his glare on his colleague, stunned that he'd say something like that. "Too crowded? So what, we just slaughter every mutant we come across just because we don't have any place to put them?"

"This wasn't some innocent martyr, Dr. Tatopoulos," Stuart firmly interrupted. "If you don't recall, it did attack one of my fighters."

"After you shot god knows how many missiles at it!" the biologist cried, exasperated. "We could have resolved this peacefully, without unnecessarily killing something that wasn't a threat."

"We didn't know that it wouldn't become a threat," Stuart replied.

Nick could only stare in disbelief. "Using that logic we should just throw everyone in jail at all times. Never know who could become a threat."

The colonel grit his teeth, losing his patience with the headstrong scientist. "Honestly, how many harmless mutants do you know?"

"There are plenty," Nick began, "but the military's too busy blowing them up to give them a chance."

"Give them a chance?" the officer snorted before leaning closer to Nick and sneering at him. "You mean like your little pet project?"

Eyes narrowing, the former leader of HEAT clenched his fists. "Godzilla was never a pet, or a project," he spat. "He was the biggest ally we've ever had in our fight against dangerous mutants."

"Too bad he was one himself," Stuart added off-handedly. "Trusting in savage beasts may be well and good for you, but most prefer the support of always-obedient weaponry."

The helicopter came to rest on the ground and the colonel promptly got off, with Nick following only a few paces behind. "We didn't have to worry about Godzilla being 'obedient.''' The brunette let out a dry laugh. "What could we do if he decided that he didn't want to listen to us? He protected and helped us because he wanted to, because to him it was the right thing to do."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" the colonel asked incredulously, unable to stifle a small laugh. "You think a giant, fire-breathing lizard knew anything about 'the right thing to do?'"

"Mine did," Nick said quietly, suddenly retreating from the heated argument as the matter became a little too personal for his taste.

-

Another loud crash and the noisy whine of jets flying overhead made Mendel Craven cover his ears in irritation. Jonah noted the new direction of the fighter jets' paths. "They're flying away. Think we won?"

The blond sighed. "I guess. I don't see the Air Force running from a fight."

"Must not have been a very exciting fight," the younger man observed. "Cause that was awfully quick."

Mendel shrugged. That wasn't really something to complain about. "Are you feeling better?" he asked hesitantly, a not-so-hidden guilty look in his eyes.

Jonah laughed. "You want to leave, don't you?"

"No," the robotist tried to assure him. "I wouldn't abandon you like that."

"Really? Because that seemed to be the first thing on your mind since I first spoke to you." He smirked. "Guess this brace comes with a helping of extra sympathy."

Mendel smiled. "Apparently."

Jonah leaned back and waved the older man away. "Go if you want. I would. Not likely that we'll be continuing our discussion with Solstice anytime soon."

"You sure you'll be fine?" Even if he did find the up-and-coming star in the technological community irritating, Mendel didn't want to leave him to fend for himself while injured.

"Don't worry about me," Jonah assured him. "I can take care of myself. I think they're going to drive me over to a real hospital soon anyways." He motioned towards the front of the med-station. "What about that gal you came in with?"

"I don't know…" Mendel trailed off, having almost forgotten about Monique. "I guess Nick can take care of her, or at least tell someone else to."

Nodding, Jonah left the matter at that. "Well then I guess I'll be seeing you Dr. Craven." He stuck out a hand. "It's been a pleasure, albeit a rather strange one towards the end."

"Same here," the blond said, shaking Jonah's outstretched hand.

The younger man laughed. "Liar. But I appreciate the pretense nonetheless."

-

Exiting the medical tent, Mendel surveyed the rather chaotic scene. More people were being brought into the makeshift clinic, though thankfully none of the injuries looked too serious. He wondered how he'd ever make it to JFK airport in time to make his flight home to Pittsburgh. Every road in view was closed, and traffic had probably gone to hell. Frowning, his thoughts wandered to his favorite yellow creation. He couldn't believe he had let Jonah talk him into storing NIGEL in a crate and leaving it under paid guard at the airport. Sure NIGEL had a complex tracking system that would allow Mendel to find him should he ever become lost, but still.

In any case, he first had to figure out how he'd get out of here. The immediate area was fenced off by police line. Deciding to try and sneak past the officials, Mendel hoped he wouldn't be considered important enough to bother chasing.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. "Excuse me Dr. Craven, but I can't let you leave."

Mendel turned around to face the person who had just grabbed his arm. "Rich?"

The M-Force agent nodded. "You're going to have to come with us."

The professor didn't understand what was going on. Why on earth would he have to stay? "Come with you where?"

"I don't know yet," Rich shrugged. "But it'll be awhile, seeing as we have to get this mess cleaned up."

Remaining calm, Mendel knew he'd have a better chance of wheedling his way out if he didn't anger any of the authorities. "Why exactly do I have to stay?"

"You were part of a sensitive meeting," the agent explained. "The Force can't just let you walk away without a debriefing of some sort."

"Debriefing?" the blond asked. "A debriefing of what? Nick and I didn't even get to meet Winter." Unless Nick had told them otherwise. But why would he do that?

"Mr. Winter says otherwise," Rich stated. "And we need to find out how much Dr. Tatopoulos told you."

"He didn't tell me anything. And I guess I technically did meet Winter, but we barely even spoke. He was just asking where Nick was."

Rich looked at him strangely. "Nick wasn't with you? Where was he?"

Gulping, Mendel recognized his slip-up. "Umm…bathroom?"

"Right..." The man's odd answers to basic questions were all the more reasons to interrogate him. Leading Mendel off to a waiting van, Rich stayed firm in his resolve. "Whatever the case may be, this is a matter of procedure. I hope you understand."

-

Bryan Huang peeked his head out of the med-tent. Seeing Mendel Craven otherwise preoccupied with an dark-haired man, he decided to seek out the only other person he could consult about the still unconscious woman lying on a nearby cot. Spotting him, the Asian man jogged up towards the apparently sulking figure. "Dr. Tatopoulos?"

Hearing his name jerked Nick out of a temporary reverie. "What?"

"What do you want me to do about the woman you brought in?" he asked, nodding towards the tent.

Nick mulled over that. "Get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Once she wakes up, let her decide what she wants to do."

"Ok I guess," Bryan said hesitantly. "You sure you don't want her to come with you?" At the other man's questioning look, he explained himself further. "You did say she was your friend when you brought her in, or at least you referred to her that way."

Chuckling, the biologist clarified his earlier comments a bit. "Right. Well I guess you could call her something like that at one time. Now? Not so much."

"Oh," the paramedic nodded sympathetically, thinking he understood. "Ex-girlfriend?"

Nick blinked. "What?"

Realizing he'd made a faux pas, Bryan hastily expanded on the reasoning that had led to the apparently incorrect conclusion. "It's just the way you were talking about her, I guess it seemed-"

"Don't worry about it," the brunette cut him off good-naturedly. "I guess I can see why you might think that. She was an 'old friend,' but I actually just meant 'friend.' She and I were never an item." He chuckled a bit. That would be interesting, to say the least.

Relieved, Bryan moved to wrap things up. "You sure you don't want to check up on her before you leave?"

"Positive," Nick replied, eyes scanning the premises for Rich. Finding him, he exchanged good-byes with the paramedic before making his way through the crowd, shivering slightly. Wrapping his arms around himself, he wished he had brought another coat.

The M-Force rep stopped in his tracks. His coat. With the folder from Winter's office. Now wrapped around Monique.

Cursing his carelessness, Nick immediately turned on his heel and rapidly made his way back to the mobile clinic. "Hey!" he called, catching sight of Bryan entering the tent again.

The younger man looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"On second thought, it probably would be a good idea for me to see how she's doing," Nick said, ducking into the tent and kneeling besides Monique. "That ok?"

Bryan shrugged. "No problem," he said, before departing to tend to an injured cubicle jockey from Solstice.

Glancing to both sides, Nick tried to be as discrete as possible. He had put the folder in the side of his jacket, a little bit towards the back. With the way he wrapped the coat around Monique, however, it was probably moved entirely. Peeling away the initial layer of the coat, he gently shifted Monique to her side, exposing her back. Sure enough, the folder dropped out of the coat and came to rest just above Monique's waist. Sighing in relief, Nick grabbed it and was about to leave when something caught his eye.

It was small, almost negligible at first glance, even though the dark red ink contrasted sharply with Monique's ivory skin. The color or size, however, was not the aspect of the tattoo that currently held Nick's attention with an unmatchable intensity. It was the ring. The ring with a lone flame enclosed in it. The ring that had burned itself into his memory years ago.

"Dr. Tatopoulos? Are you ok?" Bryan called from across the tent, noting the expression on the brunette's face with concern.

Swallowing, Nick did his best to keep his voice even and his emotions under control. "I'm fine." Covering Monique up again, he shakily rose to his feet. "But there's been a change of plans. She's coming with me."

* * *

-Japan- 

The overwhelming musk of raw fish wafted down from the kitchen, causing the teenager who plopped down cross-legged on the floor of her living room to gag. Sure it was good once it became sushi, but she wasn't a fan of the fresh out of the ocean scent. Unfortunately for her, she got more than her fair share of exposure to it, as her father was a fisherman.

"Miyako!" her mother's voice rang out from the adjoining room. "Did you pick your brother up from soccer practice?"

"I thought Dad would," she answered, irritation making its way into her voice.

"Kaz just called," Atsume Yamuri reprimanded her daughter. "He's been waiting for thirty minutes outside school. You were supposed to stop by on your way home and pick him up."

Miyako sighed in exasperation. "I told you, Dad was supposed to get him!"

The middle-aged woman frowned. "Where is he anyway?" Pausing for a moment, she contemplated their best course of action. "I'm going to take the car and pick Kazaki up." Atsume then looked at Miyako pointedly. "But that doesn't mean you're getting off the hook. Take your bike and swing by the wharf to see if your father needs help. He should have been home two hours ago."

The dark-haired teen groaned. "Do I have to?"

"Indeed you do," her mother replied, not a single trace of sympathy in her voice. She grabbed her keys from a nearby table and strode out the door. "Get moving Miyako! We want your father home in time for dinner."

-

If Miyako had thought the odor of recently deceased fish was unbearable in her kitchen, there was little that could prepare her for the stench of the wharf – including previous visits. Making a grand show of holding her breath, she garnered strange stares from the fisherman milling about. Not many locals were so sensitive to the scent of seafood.

Locking up her bike, the seventeen-year-old strolled down the docks, eyes rapidly scanning the horizon for any sign of her father's fishing boat. Strangely, however, she did not see the large watercraft in its usual spot near the end of the docks. She did, however, notice police cars and an ambulance.

Frowning, she increased her pace and squinted to see more. A rescue ship was stationed nearby, its inhabitants barking orders at the people on land. Swallowing, Miyako attempted to calm her now racing heartbeat. It probably didn't have anything to do with her dad. She didn't even think it was in the right spot. Her father's ship docked a few yards farther down, right?

Feet now moving in a jog, she listened to the whispered conversations that grew in intensity the closer she got to the accident. The words "Taiga" floated around, increasing the teen's alarm. That was the name of her father's boat. Had something happened to it?

The scene that gradually came into view answered her unspoken question and slowed the motion of her feet until they were planted to the ground in shock. Mouth hanging open, her throat went dry with the combination of disbelief and paralyzing fear.

"Taiga" was barely visible anymore, thanks to the jagged wound in the hull of the ship. Or at least what was left of the ship. Most of the once almost majestic craft had been ripped away, as if the hand of God had grabbed the vessel and furiously torn it apart. Blood stained the top of the stern, and Miyako could barely make out the form of a man draped across the railing, unmoving. Any glass had been shattered and it was a miracle that the ravaged boat barely stayed afloat.

Sprinting, Miyako frantically tried to break through the ever-increasing crowd around the morbid scene. "Move!" she screamed, fists bounding on the back of an exceptionally large man. "My father, I have to see my father!"

The man ignored her, prompting the frightened girl to squeeze between him and a neighboring bystander. Law enforcement swarmed the scene, shouting into walkie-talkies and forcing the oncoming crowd back. Miyako could only make out bits and pieces of what they said to each other.

"Third attack in last two weeks," one said in a low voice to a fellow rescue worker. "All the same. Huge boats absolutely ravaged. Few survivors, if any." Those last words gave rise to a hollow, sinking feeling in Miyako's chest. "A nearby vessel got a visual this time. We know what did this."

The worker leaned in close to their colleague's ear to whisper the rest of that line of thought, causing the other's eyes to go wide. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," came the grim reply.

'What are they talking about?' the girl thought. 'What happened to my father?' Deciding to take the initiative, she freed herself from the surrounding crowd's grasp and rushed towards the conversing rescue workers. "What happened? Are there any survivors? What did this?" Her questions were rushed and flurried, but the uncertainty of the situation threw her normally rational way of thinking out the window.

"You need to move back young lady," the rescuer sternly told her. "We can't have everyone-"

The rest of his sentence, however, went unheard as a figure lying behind the workers caught Miyako's eye. Violently pushing past the surprised officials, she lunged towards the broken form. "Dad!"

Looking up at the hysterical teenager, the medic tending to the injured man moved slightly to allow the daughter to kneel at his side. Concerned after getting no response, Miyako tried to catch her father's attention again. "Dad? It's me, Miyako."

Glassy eyes moved to regard the figure that now stared fearfully at them. The man still did not respond, presumably more through inability rather than choice. The expression on his face and the stiffness of his entire body pointed to him still being in shock.

Biting her lip in an effort to keep from crying, Miyako turned to the paramedic, repeating a question she had already asked to no avail. "What happened?"

"The boat was attacked," he replied, mulling over how tight-lipped he should be around the victim's family.

Not placated by the obvious answer, Miyako pressed on. "Attacked by what?"

The paramedic looked at her sympathetically, but remained cryptic. "I'm afraid I can't tell you yet."

A look of righteous indignation erupting on her face, the teenager opened her mouth to demand more information when a gasp from her father cut her off. Head whipping around to face him once again, she appeared more hopeful. "Dad? Are you awake?"

"G-Go…"

"Go?" Miyako repeated, confused. What was that? "Go-what?" She paused, thinking over the mumbling. "Did this Go thing attack you."

Her father eyes only stared straight ahead, focused on an indeterminable point in space. Breath coming in raspy gasps, he uttered a name that had remained unheard of for six years.

"_Gojira…Gojira!"_

And then, as if summoned by the speaking of his name, the head of the great beast emerged from the sea. Blinking at the crowd gathered on the docks, he snorted, and then opened his jaws to release a deafening, terrifying roar.

* * *

Sorry that took so long. I hope it was worth the wait. :o) And I know things are moving slowly, but I don't want to make this too contrived. 

If anyone's ever wondering about what's going on with this story while I'm in the process of writing, make sure to check my profile. I update it every few days with a status report of sorts on the next chapter.


	5. 4: Blinded by the Rising Sun

**Comments: **Thanks very much to all those who reviewed. To respond to the more specific ones, I was hoping you'd feel bad for the mutant, dolphinology. And LOL at Betrayed Daughters...there will be running and screaming in this chapter. As for your other request, you'll just have to wait and see. :o)

**Warning:** The language in this chapter is a bit more on the, um, "colorful" side. shrugs What can I say, some of the people in this chapter aren't in what you'd call a good mood.

When Even Hindsight is Clouded

Chapter Four: Blinded by the Rising Sun

---New York, New York---

Amid the dying panic and organized chaos of the city streets, one would not even think to look twice at the sight of an M-Force agent dragging a chubby blond man through the streets. The M-Force was notorious for being sticklers when it came to anyone that might have information as to the origins of a mutant attack. This particular agent's motivations, however, were a bit different.

"Tell me again why you need me here," Mendel Craven sputtered, unsuccessful in his attempts to break from Rich's grasp. "I don't know anything that Nick couldn't tell you."

"Yes, but Nick's been working with us for six years now," Rich replied. "The higher-ups would sleep easier knowing what exactly you saw in Solstice."

Mendel scowled. "Can't Nick question me then?" He wasn't completely comfortable around his former boss, but it was human nature to prefer the familiar over a faceless stranger. Probably a mean one to boot. He'd had enough experience with the military-types during his days in HEAT to know civilian knowledge of classified information was a touchy subject.

But he didn't actually know anything that could be deemed classified. He never got to speak more than a few sentences to Winter. All he knew was that Solstice was in the process of developing some new technology that could be of use to the M-Force. Hardly earth-shattering knowledge. Most people knew about Solstice's current relationship with the government. Or at least the part of that relationship they chose to reveal.

Rich firmly shook his head. "I have strict orders to keep you and Dr. Tatopoulos separated for the time being." Raising an eyebrow, he added, "I think you know why."

Mendel's eyes widened. "Wh-what?"

Sighing at the shocked expression on Mendel's face, Rich tried a different, less threatening route. "We're not suspecting any sort of grand conspiracy here. But Nick was unaccounted for before a scheduled meeting with Mr. Winter. He had access to his office."

"He also had access to the bathroom…" Mendel trailed off.

Rich rolled his eyes. "Cameron Winter would just like to cover his bases here. The situation makes him nervous." The M-Force agent eyed his captive. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"I would," Mendel began, "but if you want to know more, I'm not the one you should be asking." Solstice was a major backer of the Force, so Nick apparently kept his animosity towards Winter under wraps. Mendel didn't want to be the one to start the latest extra-juicy office rumor.

Relenting, Rich tried to keep his curiosity under control. "Fine. This isn't about Nick's relationship with Winter." He shrugged. "The theories floating around are probably more entertaining than the truth anyways."

"Theories?" Mendel asked, not sure he wanted to know.

Biting his lip, the agent decided to keep his mouth shut. "They're probably not true." After thinking for a moment, he decided to try another way of extracting information. "But maybe a few hints about why there seems to be tension between them could tell us how suspicious we should be about Nick's disappearance."

"Yeah, they probably would," the blond shrugged. "But it's not my place to tell you. I don't know the entire story anyways." Which wasn't a lie. Nick had remained tight-lipped about exactly why such animosity existed between the pair. He didn't seem the type to hold such a grudge for mere college teasing.

But then again Winter had implanted neural technology to control Godzilla and tried to kill Nick. The first point was pretty much moot since Godzilla was, well, not around any more. Mendel did his best to force his mind down another train of thought. Besides being a complete shock, that final mission had been the beginning of the end for HEAT. Even if he had moved on, the break-up of the team wasn't a fond memory by any means. Despite his complaints, he enjoyed his work. He also had made a few close friends, even if one of them had a certain fondness for making adjustments to his favorite robot.

And in one of those friends…he had almost found more than a friend. Her eyes were finally starting to turn from another colleague and spent a few moments lingering in his direction. Now? After six years, he'd undoubtedly lost all the progress he had made. Not that it mattered. Running into Nick was chance, Monique piled on top of that could be attributed to a whim of Fortune as well. But finding Elsie or Randy too? Luck, or lack of it, only got one so far.

So why was it he had a feeling even more of his past would be catching up with him soon?

"Watch your step." Rich's voice cut into Mendel's musings and he suddenly found himself boarding a large black van.

Alarm bells went off in the robotist's mind. "We're going somewhere?" Getting no response, he pressed on. "What is it you have to ask me that you can't ask somewhere here? There are a couple of empty tents…"

"It's not me who's going to be doing the questioning," Rich clarified as he gestured to a large man sitting in the back. "Meet Tighe." The agent then momentarily disappeared out of sight, shutting the van's back doors before reappearing in the driver's seat. "If you cooperate we should get all the information we need pretty quickly. I could just drive this van over to JFK airport."

"And if I don't cooperate as much as you'd like me to?" Mendel asked. Even if he told them Nick was in Winter's office, he didn't know anything about what the biologist had been doing in there. Besides crashing through a wall with Monique.

Rich shrugged, putting the van in gear. "You'll see."

* * *

---Costa Rica--- 

"They're hiding something," Randy mumbled over a barely touched can of soda. Lounging back in the cushioned chair, he continued to voice his thoughts out loud. "Why else would that be a 'restricted area?''

"Stating the obvious isn't going to help us," Candy said from her cross-legged perch on the hotel room bed. "They've been called in to defuse a dangerous situation. They have the right to fence off any area they want from civilian access."

Her husband looked at her, gears obviously turning in his head. "You're technically not a civilian, are you?"

"Nice try, but for all intents and purposes, I am right now. The M-Force didn't call me in." Candy shrugged. "It may be worth a shot, but I don't think it'll go over very well, especially if I want to bring any of you along."

"You could sneak us in…" Randy trailed of.

"Espionage isn't exactly my forte," Candace retorted. "We'd be just as well off sneaking in there together."

The sound of a creaking door captured their attention as Elsie entered the room, clutching a small stack of papers. Candy looked at her expectantly. "Find anything interesting?"

Pulling out a chair from the room's mahogany desk, Elsie sat down and arranged the papers on the wooden surface before answering. "Interesting, yes. Conclusive, no."

Candace frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well like I originally suspected, the substance didn't originate from any sort of plant. No traces of chlorophyll in sight." Elsie rummaged through the print-outs. "No strong acids either, which was also to be expected. There wasn't any real erosion on the tree we collected it from."

Candy chewed over the new information. "So you know what it isn't. Any idea what it is?"

"Assuming Worthington's equipment is accurate, we've got a very strange mix of chemicals here," Elsie replied. "I can't place a finger on what exactly this substance is supposed to do. But I do know it's not from any natural resident."

"How do you know that?" the blonde asked, intrigued.

Wordlessly handing over the print-outs, Elsie pointed to a line near the bottom. Candy raised an eyebrow before nodding in comprehension. "Metaphaline."

Randy was confused, to say the least. "Metawhatline? What does that mean?"

"It's a chemical Randy," Elsie said, rolling her eyes.

"Well duh, I figured that out," he replied. "So what?"

"It's a _synthetic_ chemical hun," Candy filled him in. "Not something that would be found in any normal animal."

"Oh. So what does it do?"

Elsie sighed. "I don't know. It would most likely depend on what other chemicals it's mixed with."

"Don't we know that?" Randy asked.

"Yes…" Candy trailed off, staring at what Elsie had given her. "But I can't make sense of why all of these would be combined either."

"Metaphaline is manufactured by a German-based company called Alextra." Elsie offered, picking up a sheet of paper still on the desk. "Not much information on its chemicals to be found on the website, but it did have a number we could call." She shrugged. "Might as well start there."

Yawning, Randy voiced his protests. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"Considering Germany's six hours ahead of Costa Rica, it's probably too early in the morning over there to expect anyone to answer," Candy added.

Nodding, Elsie got up and took the papers back from Candace. "I've already talked about it with Worthington. He remembers a contract with Alextra, but doesn't know the details. He also definitely doesn't know anything about exactly what the metaphaline was used for." She sighed. "You two can call it a night. I'm going back to my room to see if I can make anything out of all this." With that, she scooped up her unwieldy pile of paper, fumbling with it as she closed the door.

Randy plopped down on the bed next to his wife. "So…" he trailed off.

Eyeing him knowingly, Candy decided to play along. "Sooo what?"

"Well I was just thinking," he began, gaze traveling around the room. "We're in a nice hotel room…comfy bed…on a bee-yoo-tiful island paradise…" He paused. "Well, paradise if you don't mind man-eating monsters that raid local villages at night."

"Right," Candy said. "Man-eating monsters that we have to do some detective work on, starting early tomorrow morning if we want to beat the goon squad." She shifted, pulling the covers out. "So we're both going to get a good night's sleep."

Staring dumbfoundly, Randy could only manage "But…Candy…" he started, silenced when she threw the comforter over his head. Glowering he crawled under it, muttering under his breath. "Some tropical vacation…"

Turning off the bedside light, Candy grinned. "I love you too hun."

-----------

"Dammit," Elsie cursed, dropping yet another stray piece of paper on the hotel floor. It would've been a bit more practical for Worthington to book them rooms closer to one another. Wasn't like he couldn't afford greasing the hotel bureaucracy's wheels to get them to accommodate the rag-tag band of mutant hunters.

Mutant hunters. Huh.

No, that definitely wasn't what they were. "Detectives" was more like it. They were just there to do some sleuthing and try to put together the pieces that the M-Force couldn't. God knows what they would do if they actually came face to face with the creature. Sure Phillip and Candy had packed tranquilizers and stun guns, but no one had any way of knowing if they would work. How do you measure the correct tranquilizer dosage for a creature you know nothing about?

"You don't," she muttered aloud. "You just shoot and hope to God it felt at least a tickle."

A nearby housekeeper's ears pricked, and she turned and regarded Elsie strangely. Managing a light, sheepish laugh, the redhead came up with the best possible excuse. "Lizard problem." She winced. It probably wasn't a complete lie, but it was a weak one at best.

The maid wasn't fooled. "You are here about _el monstruo_?" she asked, her English only lightly dusted by a Costa Rican accent.

"No," Elsie answered quickly. Those M-Force agents knew where they were staying. She wouldn't put it past them to interrogate the hotel staff to figure out why they were really here.

"_Si_, of course," the housekeeper nodded. "None of you are ever here about that. Even the ones in uniform." She shrugged. "But we know."

Sighing, a twinge of sympathy for the woman and the other locals tugged at Elsie. "I'm not here with the people in uniform," she offered. "They're probably the last ones who'd want me here."

"And we are the last ones who would want them here," the maid sharply retorted. "They spend weeks shutting off parts of the island, combing through the beaches, harassing us…" She closed her eyes, a painful memory coming to the surface. "My nephew, he was playing with a friend on the beach. My sister left them for three minutes, that's all. When she comes back…all that's left is their ball. No blood, nothing like that." She shrugged. "We thought maybe they ran off, or got carried away by the tide. Only when those people bring back Juan's torn shirt…then we know."

Elsie could only stare wordlessly, unsure of what to say. The Costa Rican only let a momentary pause go by before starting up again, her words now filled with anger. "And what do they do after telling us Juan and Pedro are dead? Not say they are sorry. No, no time for that. They just ask us question after question, not even giving my sister a moment's rest."

Her eyes rose to meet Elsie's. "She just found out her son was dead, yes? They should have come back later. But they're impatient, wanting to know everything about the boys. Silly things, like what they had eaten or if they used, what was it, 'scented soap.'" She laughed dryly. "Those people don't know anything. They are making up nonsense that they think could have caused that attack."

"Sometimes," Elsie began slowly, "the most trivial of things might have something to do with it. Maybe they saw a pattern in past victims and were looking to see if it continued."

The maid shook her head firmly. "No. This thing, this creature, it does not follow any sort of pattern. They will never be able to stop it if they pretend it does." She was quiet for a moment. "Even so, they refuse to tell us anything they do know. Anything that could protect us." She paused. "I think they are hiding something. That they are not the innocent peacekeepers they make themselves out to be."

The last statement caught Elsie's attention. "What makes you say that?"

"Instinct," she shrugged. "It is all any of us have to go on anymore."

Elsie was silent, seemingly thinking over something carefully in her mind before speaking. "It may be all you have now," she said, "but it doesn't have to be that way forever." She evenly met the Costa Rican's gaze. "I promise you, I will figure out what 'those people,' are trying to keep quiet. And what they haven't yet uncovered themselves. And when I do, I'll make sure your people are the first to know. Not the government, and definitely not the M-Force."

The maid nodded, an air of disinterest still hovering above her as she turned back to her work. "I will take your word for it _senora_. We will see how much that is worth."

* * *

---New York--- 

Two brown eyes opened lazily to greet the sterile scene in front of them. Their owner found herself in small room with eggshell colored walls. Curtains separated the Spartan cots that lay only a few feet off the ground, but the size and thinness of the material did not offer too much in the way of privacy. Though a shadowed form behind a neighboring curtain blocked her view, the Frenchwoman instantly recognized the familiar din of a medical center.

A sharp pain in her forehead alerted her to exactly why she was in a hospice. Gingerly raising two fingers, Monique ran them over the terrycloth bandage tied securely around the top of her head. With no reflective surface to examine the injury she couldn't be sure of its nature, but she could be fairly sure that, should she examine the damp spot she had just found in a mirror, she'd be greeted by the sight of a crimson stain.

_Parfait_.

Since she had no recollection of ever being transported to a hospital, Monique could only assume she had spent a solid amount of time unconscious. The critical question was how much time. She had only three days to complete her assignment. If she had been knocked out for longer, the Ring would assume she'd failed. Worse, her not showing up at the designated pick-up area would lead them to believe that at best she'd been killed, and at worst she'd been caught. And if whoever had uncovered her didn't already feel the need to dispose of the assassin, the Ring would gladly take care of that for them. Agents were useless once the authorities had any sort of solid record of their existence.

Monique closed her eyes and took in a calming breath. Panicking would not help. She needed to do her best to establish exactly what her current situation was as discretely as possible. That meant finding out only three things: what day it was, where she was, and who had taken temporary custody of her.

Since she could see no calendar or timepiece in the immediate area, the assassin moved past the first question, saving it for later. Instead, she focused back to what she could remember. She had successfully infiltrated Winter's office and had been staking him out. But something had obviously gone very, very wrong.

Monique winced, the pounding in her head almost overwhelming her. She had somehow earned a head injury, but her recollection of how was hazy at best. It wasn't a confrontation of some sort; of that much she was certain. But there was another person involved. Not Winter, but she had the nagging feeling that it was someone important.

But important how? The only people that were important to her now were her targets and her superiors in the Ring. And she highly doubted a Ring official would just stroll on into Cameron Winter's office. So that meant she was most likely thinking of someone that had been important at some time, but didn't really matter anymore. Or at least she hoped they didn't matter. If it was someone who knew her, someone from her old life, then they may have been the ones who brought her here. And they would definitely have questions. Questions she had no intention of answering.

Voices just outside the door caught her attention. Sharp ears trained by years of necessitated experience picked up a hushed discussion. "…Thirty-something Caucasian female…she was at the site of the attack and they brought her in with a concussion."

The volume of the conversation dropped further, and Monique could barely make out "But why is she here? The other victims are being treated either on-site or at city hospitals."

So she was in some kind of specialized private institution rather than a public one. Whoever brought her here had some connections, but she still didn't know what those connections were. She put off mulling over the bewildering statement to try and listen to the rest of the conversation, frowning when she realized she could only make out bits and pieces now. "…was very adamant about bringing her with him…don't know…no record…agent…on file…"

Her heart rate increased exponentially. Agent? A Ring of Fire agent? So far all her missions had been accomplished sans witnesses, and she didn't leave a calling card, so it wouldn't surprise her if the authorities had no specific file on her. That, however, was little comfort. Having an agent in their clutches was infinitely more valuable to the authorities than a manila folder.

Taking another deep breath, Monique let the instant of panic pass to look at the situation rationally. "Agent" could refer to a thousand different things. And if they really suspected she worked for the Ring, they wouldn't leave her unsupervised with other patients.

Still, her instincts told her this was not a place she wanted to be. There was only one course of action to take. It didn't matter that the Ring would be angry as hell over her going AWOL. They could try to do whatever they wanted in the future. The only thing that mattered now was the present.

She had to get out of there, ASAP.

-----------

"Watch it!"

Nick barely jumped out of the way as a nurse pushing a tray table barreled by. Not stopping to wonder why she'd be in such a rush, he craned his neck to look for the room number an orderly had given him. A right turn and walk down a long hallway was all it took before both the number and a portly middle-aged doctor, came into view.

Nick groaned. He had hoped to be as discrete as possible when dealing with Monique. If the doctor recognized him, he'd no doubt grill him for any and all information Nick had about the mystery patient. Unfortunately he didn't know much about what was going on, and he wasn't quite ready to give out the information he did have at a moment's notice. He had to assess his situation with Monique before revealing anything to a third party.

But he also wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, which eliminated coming back later as an option. Slowing his fast-paced stride down, he announced his presence with a "How is she?"

Dr. Aliverez started and looked up, not expecting any visitors after the colleague he had been talking to left to attend to other patients. He pushed his wire-frame glasses up his nose before responding. "The injury is serious, but not life-threatening, She'll probably have a headache for a good while after she wakes up."

Nick nodded, barely digesting the information as his mind raced at a mile a minute. "Is she awake?"

"Last time we checked, no," Aliverez answered.

Despite a neutral outward expression, Nick scowled internally. Monique wasn't any good to him unconscious. He had a thousand questions for her, ranging from why in God's name she'd left the DGSE to join the Ring, to what if anything she knew about the murder of a reporter who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wasn't fooling himself into thinking he'd get any straight answers, but there was no harm in trying. At the least he might be able to convince her to stay with him for a while. For old times' sake.

Or because of the fact that he knew who she was, and that she had a mark on Cameron Winter.

Still, the latter wasn't information he wanted to give out. If Monique knew he had discovered her new line of work, she'd probably kill him. The indentation from the knife she'd held to his neck was testament to that. It wasn't a pleasant line of thought, but he had to be realistic. Assassins generally didn't like people who knew their identity to be anything above six feet under. He had to tread very, very carefully here.

"Can I go in and see her?" He'd imagine she'd wake up soon, and he knew her well enough to realize she'd bolt as soon as she regained consciousness. Even if he hadn't yet formulated a plan of attack, instinct told him he didn't have much time before the opportunity to finally gain some insight into Audrey's death would pass by.

Aliverez paused for a moment before nodding. From what he could tell, Nick wasn't family, but he seemed to be the best connection to the woman's identity that they had. "But first we'll need you to fill out some paperwork."

Nick raised an eyebrow before moving towards the door. "I doubt I could be of much use there."

"Then at least give us something to put here," Aliverez pleaded, pointing to the blank 'Name' field.

A cursory glance was all Nick granted the clipboard before opening the door and stepping inside. "Jane Doe is fine."

-----------

'Jane Doe?'

At least they didn't know who she was.

Still, something about the statement troubled her. The voice had been muffled, but it seemed very familiar. It no doubt belonged to someone she knew. The important question was, did they know her?

Her careers as both a secret service agent and an assassin had led to more than her fair share of stakeouts, a good number of them having been in New York City. Perhaps the voice belonged to an associate of a past target. Not much danger there, since she was sure none had seen her face. She prided herself on her stealth and discretion above all else.

That wasn't to say a potential threat didn't exist. She still couldn't be sure as to whether or not anyone knew she worked for the Ring. If they did know, someone close to a past victim might set off alarm bells, probably not caring whether or not she actually was the agent that had committed the crime. And she doubted the US Government would be too picky on exactly which charge they threw an international assassin in jail for.

The door creaked as it shut and footsteps padded their way into the room. Monique quickly drew the white curtain around her bed and then held her breath, hoping they'd pause at one of the cots closer to the entrance.

No such luck. The echoing steps only ceased once they were squarely at her bedside.

She could delineate the outline of a man, a little over six feet tall, medium build, and with short hair. The Frenchwoman scowled. The ultra-generic description did her no good in identifying him.

Monique drew in a breath, steeling her nerves. Her head felt heavy as blood pounded in her ears, and intermittent bouts of nausea plagued her without warning. Even sitting up she had trouble keeping her sense of balance, body rocking back and forth ever so slightly, fighting to resist the temptation to fall backwards in surrender. She was nowhere near top form, and unarmed, to top things off. But whoever was out there undoubtedly knew she was awake. Concussion or not, she had to act quickly. It was risky, but then again, she couldn't name many things she'd done in the past eight years that weren't.

Tensing after another deep breath, she forced herself to remain completely still. The shadowed head beyond her curtain quirked slightly, indicating she had caught her visitor's interest. As the outlined form moved to the curtain to pull it open, she watched carefully for the first glance of an actual hand. Once it appeared, she grabbed it and lunged up and out of the bed.

But apparently, he had been expecting that. The dizziness clouding Monique's head became unbearable once the hand she grabbed escaped, grasped her arm, and spun her around. Her legs buckled and she suddenly found herself in a tight hold, one arm twisted behind her back. Breaking away, she didn't even wait for the room to stop spinning before making a quick turn on shaky legs and an throwing an ill-aimed punch that missed the fuzzy outline of his head by at least four inches. Grabbing her wrist before her balled up hand could retreat, her mystery visitor used his other arm to steady her. Gradually, her surroundings came into focus, and she blinked before squinting at the face in front of her. Eyes widening in recognition, the memories she had struggled to recollect earlier came flooding back.

Nick just offered a slight, rather cryptic smile. "Thought you could use the same move on me twice in the same day, huh?" In reality, she probably could, but her concussion at least gave him a bit of a temporary advantage.

Monique stiffened and pulled back again, calves coming to rest against the edge of her bed. She held his gaze, expression remaining decidedly neutral despite a pounding headache that suddenly became much more intense.

Correctly guessing she wasn't going to say anything, the biologist tried to put her at ease, or at least prevent her from feeling threatened. "How are you feeling?"

The Ring of Fire agent wasn't sure as to how to respond. Most likely Nick was genuinely concerned, but she did not want to reveal the extent to which her injury affected her to anyone. Sitting down on her cot, she simply said, "I am fine."

"You've been better," Nick replied, glancing at the space next to Monique. Six years ago he'd go ahead and sit right next to her. Now? They probably needed a little more space. Rolling a nearby chair over, he settled himself directly across her. "You were unconscious when I brought you here."

"I gathered," she replied dryly. Her hands went to her bandage. "Concussion?"

"Looks like it." He paused, studying her face. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Do you?" It was a long shot, but Monique wasn't taking any chances.

Nick nodded. "Our impromptu reunion was interrupted by an oversized green-skinned tourist."

A mutant attack. Monique hadn't known about that. It seemingly explained Nick's presence, but at the same time made completing her assignment even more unlikely. If Solstice Headquarters was in the same shape she was, she doubted Winter would stick around. If luck was against her, the CEO might have already chartered a private jet to God-knows-where. Meanwhile she would be stuck trying to explain away her hiding in his private office.

Speaking of Winter's private office, what was Nick doing there? She hadn't been keeping tabs on her old teammates but she very much doubted the past animosity between the pair could have been buried to the point that the CEO would trust Nick in his office. She knew Nick well enough to realize he wouldn't be fooled by any benign explanation for why she had hidden herself behind Cameron Winter's office furniture. But she took solace in the fact that there probably wasn't a benign explanation for why Nick was there either. If he blew her cover, he'd inevitably reveal his own deeds as well. The only solution would be for both to keep quiet.

You scratch my back… 

"So how much do you remember?" Nick's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You don't happen to recall where we were?"

Monique leveled her gaze with his, calculating exactly how to play this. "Non. I do not."

Nick looked away, apparently thinking something over. "We were in Solstice Technology's headquarters." He paused abruptly, as if he meant to say more, then decided against it. "You remember Solstice, right? Cameron Winter's company?"

"_Bien sur_." So he wasn't going to lie to her, but wasn't about to tell her the whole truth either. Fine. Monique had no intention of trusting him in the first place, but this only validated her instincts. Nick was not supposed to be in Winter's office, and he wasn't about to let anyone in on his little secret.

The corner of Monique's lips twitched. As much as society liked to preach ideals of sacrifice and selflessness, the instinct for self-preservation still ran strong through the veins of every human being. Nick's desire to keep anyone from discovering what he was up to could come in handy in the near future. But for now, Monique was holding her cards close. She didn't need to show her hand until absolutely necessary.

"Solstice is a major sponsor of the M-Force," Nick continued, oblivious to the sudden glint in Monique's eyes. "I work with the Force now," he added, as he seemed to realize she probably wasn't aware of what he had been up to in the past six years. "They had some new technology to show us. Us being the M-Force. Well, kind of. Technically I'm not a full-fledged agent, but…" He shook his head. "It's complicated. And not important, at least not for our purposes. There was a meeting, they asked me to come. The tech was meant to be used in the field and they figured I'd be the best person to ask about how useful Winter's new toys would be, since…" he glanced at her. "Well, you know."

Nick probably didn't realize it, but he was babbling. Something was making him very, very nervous. The possibility of being caught breaking into Winter's office?

Monique frowned. As far as he knew, she didn't even remember where they were. He shouldn't be anxious about that. Something else was wrong. She looked at him critically. How much did he know…?

"Anyway, that's my story. I can't say Solstice ranks high on my list of places I'd most like to be," he admitted, "but they pay the bills, and money talks more than some old college grudge."

The assassin very much doubted that was the case. Ignoring the fact that the rift between Nick and Winter was much more than some "college grudge," Nick, or at least the one she used to know, was a highly principled man who would need more than money to collaborate with someone he disliked as intensely as Cameron Winter. Still, she remained silent, waiting for him to continue. If things had changed so drastically, he'd reveal that soon enough.

"I realize this probably falls under the realm of classified information, but what interest does the French government have in Solstice?" he asked.

So he didn't know. He thought she was still a DGSE agent. That was one illusion she'd take care not to dispel. "I believe you answered your own question, Dr. Tatopoulos." She offered up a small, knowing smile. "Classified."

A similar smile broke out on Nick's face, though his appeared to be a bit forced. "I figured as much. Can't blame me for trying though."

"I suppose not," Monique agreed, arching her back as she feigned a stretch. "But enough about where we were. Where are we right now?"

"An M-Force medical facility." Nick explained, his gaze lazily wandering around the room. "It's mostly used for agents, but I squeezed you in." He looked back at her. "I figured you'd rather be treated here than a regular hospital. It's a bit more, uh, 'discrete.'"

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a sideways, disaffected, glance. "How considerate of you."

A mix between a cough and nervous laugh escaped Nick's throat as he found himself at a loss for what to say. Deciding to drop the issue, he returned to their original point of discussion: her health. "You must be feeling a little better. Think you can walk?"

"Perhaps," she replied, rising to her feet and taking a few shaky steps. She still felt lightheaded, so her balance wasn't yet up to par. Still, it would have to do for now.

Nick apparently didn't agree. "You should stay here a while longer. You're not fully recovered yet."

Shaking her head, Monique turned to walk away. "With all due respect, Dr. Tatopoulos, I am afraid that is not possible." After a few hobbling steps, she stopped to get her bearings and glanced back at Nick.

He once again seemed to be searching for something to say. By now it was quite obvious he wanted her to stay. It was his motivation that Monique was unsure of, though she didn't plan on sticking around long enough to find out what that was. Resuming her trek towards the door, Monique's gait straightened with each step. She had a job to do, and she'd be damned if she was going to let someone from a past life interfere with her current one.

"You know I have another meeting with Cameron Winter scheduled," Nick called after her, an almost desperate tinge to his voice. "We could always use another 'expert opinion,' on the effectiveness of his new weapons system."

Monique froze. If he was trying to get her attention, he certainly had it. She turned towards him, cocking her head in a signal for him to continue.

Nick shrugged. "It's just a suggestion. Might be of some help in whatever mission you're on here."

Shifting her weight so that she was now fully facing him, Monique crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm listening."

Taking a step towards her, Nick opened his mouth to speak when an orderly abruptly flung open the door. "Dr. Tatopoulos?"

Annoyance quickly masked the look of surprise on Nick's face. "What?"

"Phone call," the orderly replied, holding out a cordless phone.

"Can't it wait?" Nick asked tightly, glancing over at Monique long enough to notice her grow restless.

The orderly shook his head. "It's an agent in Costa Rica. Apparently they saw something during a routine sweep through the jungle. Said it was important and that you specifically would want to know about it." He followed Nick's gaze. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Nick replied, the irritation in his voice a clear signal to the contrary as he snatched the phone from the orderly's outstretched hand. "Tatopoulos."

Monique raised an eyebrow as she noticed Nick's expression register a moment of bewilderment. "Slow down, you think you saw who?" he asked.

A few beats passed, filled by a busy chattering on the other side of the line. "And you're in Costa Rica right now? There's got to be a mistake." More chattering. "No it's not that I don't trust you, it's just that-" Nick scowled as the other person apparently wouldn't let him finish. "Well what reason would they have to be in Costa Rica anyways?"

Another pause, before two blue eyes rolled. "Yes I know what they _used_ to do. I was there you know. I just-hold on a second." Nick put his mystery caller on hold and then rummaged through his pockets before retrieving a vibrating cell phone. He stared at the number on the screen for a moment, frowning slightly before turning to the orderly. "Is something going on in Japan?"

The heavyset man shrugged. "Not that I've heard of, sir."

Shrugging, Nick held the phone to his ear. The rapid chatter that immediately followed was remarkably similar to that of the previous call. Nick's reaction, however, could not have been more different. His eyes widened, face contorted in what could only have been pure shock. Monique couldn't help but catch the slight strain in his voice when he finally spoke. "Could-" he began, before swallowing loudly. "Could you say that, _again_?"

* * *

---Japan--- 

"All units proceed to the Osaka harbor! I repeat, all units to the harbor, NOW!" Agent Takashi of M-Force Japan barked into a walkie-talkie, moments before being thrown to the ground by the force of Godzilla leaping from the ocean and onto dry land. "_Kuso!_"

Screaming onlookers quickly scattered, some barely escaping an unwitting crushing courtesy of the mutation's feet. For his part, Godzilla did not seem to be all that concerned with the people on shore, setting his sights squarely on the beckoning city skyline.

Takashi picked up his walkie-talkie as he struggled back to his feet. "Stop him from reaching the city!"

A static-laced reply forced its way through. "We're trying!" an unidentified, obviously distressed voice cried. "But we're not ready yet!"

Sure enough, the M-Force and Japanese military were throwing every bit of artillery they had at the moment at the invader, but each shot was either evaded or exploded harmlessly against Godzilla's thick skin.

"You guys look like you could use some help."

Looking up, Takashi thought he would faint with relief. "Agent Hicks!"

The high-ranking M-Force official nodded curtly. "We've been receiving tips that Japanese fishing boats were going down for no apparent reason. Bit too strong a sense of déjà vu for our liking."

"Unfortunately it looks like your instincts were right," Takashi said ruefully as Hicks motioned him into an SUV. "I can't say we expected we'd ever face a threat on this level again."

"He's been taken down before," Hicks stated, putting the car in gear and tearing after Godzilla's rapidly retreating figure. "If need be we can do it again."

Offering up a cryptic smile as Godzilla tore the roof off the Osaka fish factory, Takashi only said, "I wish I could share your confidence."

Hicks brought the car to an abrupt halt near the factory and jumped out. "I want twenty units surrounding him, now!" Manpower was still limited, but he was confident they could at least keep Godzilla at bay until reinforcements arrived.

The summoned forces quickly moved into their respective positions, readying their weapons.

"Fire at will."

Immediately a barrage of smoke filled the air. Godzilla roared in rage at his attackers, breathing in deep before spewing radioactive fire over the nearest camp. A sharp twitch of his tail collided with a nearby building, shaking it to its foundations and leaving a band of Japanese soldiers on its rooftop holding on for dear life.

Takashi squinted at Godzilla's body. "I don't see any significant damage."

Through gritted teeth, Hicks watched as Godzilla brought an enormous foot down upon a unit of M-Force agents that frantically leapt out of the way. When the appendage rose again, the Major let out a slight breath as he saw no crushed human remains, then scowled as he saw the twisted metal of destroyed weaponry in its place.

Sharing Hicks' discontent, Agent Takashi once again barked orders into his walkie-talkie. "We need to hit him harder!"

"Hit him with WHAT?" came the irate reply.

Takashi realized he didn't have much of an answer for that.

Deciding he'd had enough, Godzilla moved on, the ground trembling as he made his way deeper into the city. He paused to slash through a high-rise apartment building, sending unfortunate tenants crashing through now-shattered walls.

Hicks frowned. Godzilla seemed to be destroying for the sake of destroying. That level of aggression was uncharacteristic, to say the least.

The mutated behemoth turned to seemingly subject another skyscraper to the same fate, when a blast of bullets from behind caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the outline of three military helicopters hovering nearby. Growling, Godzilla turned away from the building and swiped at the new enemies, causing a gust of air strong enough to temporarily render the copters off-balance. Fortunately, they regained their invisible footing and took off, successfully luring Godzilla away from the more densely populated areas of the city.

A small sigh of relief escaped Takashi's lips. "That should buy us some time..." he trailed off before Godzilla promptly roasted one of the helicopters. "Or not."

Hicks ran back to the SUV, grabbing the radio microphone. "I need some backup here!"

"It's coming," the M-Force dispatcher tried to reassure him. "Just twenty more minutes."

"I don't think we have twenty minutes!" Hicks yelled, becoming more agitated by the second. "In case you haven't noticed, Godzilla is on the warpath!"

"Whaddya expect me to do Major?" the dispatcher replied in a slight whine. "Reinforcements are coming as fast as they can. Unless you've invented some sort of teleportation device they couldn't get there any faster."

Disgusted, Hicks slammed the microphone back into its cradle, not bothering to reply. He tuned the dial to contact M-Force leadership directly when his cell phone rang. "Bit of a bad time," he muttered, flipping it open to see who was calling. His eyes widened when he say the named plastered across the tiny plasma screen. Pressing the green talk button, he growled, "You've got some nerve calling me you son of a bitch."

The voice on the other end of the line was eerily calm, to the point of almost sounding affected. "The project's encountered some unexpected roadblocks."

"No shit!" Hicks snorted. "I've got an 'unexpected roadblock' destroying Osaka, Japan, as we speak."

"But anyone knows even the most daunting obstacles can be overcome," the voice continued. "It's just a matter of finding your way around them."

"Yeah?" the Major scoffed. "Well you better find a detour around this one damn fast, or believe me, heads will roll."

"Are you threatening me?" A slight edge entered the other man's voice.

"You can be sure of it," Hicks replied. "Fix this. Now." With that, he clicked off his phone, just in time to see another helicopter crash into an abandoned warehouse.

"We need to evacuate the city!" a nearby Japanese official cried.

"There's no time!" Hicks shot back. "Use the emergency broadcast system and tell people to get indoors, ASAP."

"What protection will that offer?" Takashi asked skeptically.

Major Hicks shrugged. "None, really. But we can't have the entire population of Osaka flooding the streets in mass panic, can we?"

The ground shook as the last remaining helicopter drew Godzilla closer to the two men's position. "I don't see how this is that much better," Takashi replied dryly.

Ignoring the Japanese agent, Hicks gestured to the surrounding forces. "Run for cover!" Their current artillery was a mere annoyance to Godzilla, meaning the best course of action would be to lay low while keeping him out of the city. Hicks only hoped the last helicopter could last long enough to keep Godzilla busy until backup arrived.

Scanning the immediate area, Takashi pointed to a collapsed, one-story tenement. "Over here!" he yelled, motioning for Hicks to follow. The pair started in a sprint towards the ramshackle shelter, only to stop dead in their tracks when Godzilla leaped over their heads and landed squarely on top of their would-be safe haven. Shaking, Takashi stepped back. "I don't remember him being this fond of acrobatics."

"A lot's different," Hicks said, keeping his voice low. Godzilla turned around to face the two men, a distinctive leer visible in his reptilian eyes.

Takashi swallowed hard. "What does he want?"

"Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you," the Major replied, slowly backing up as well.

"I think there is a watchpost behind us," Takashi whispered. "Maybe we can-" He was abruptly interrupted as Godzilla ducked his head down and snorted hard, knocking the two men on their backs. "Oh shit…"

Hicks instinctively shrank back from the massive jaw. "He only eats fish."

"A lot's different," Takashi parroted in response, wholly disturbed by the way Godzilla was looking at them.

Sniffing for a moment, Godzilla jerked his head back up. The M-Force agents blinked. Had he changed his mind?

Their question was answered in the worst possible way when Godzilla let out an ear-splitting roar. Opening his mouth wide, the mutant rapidly descended on his prey.

Takashi found himself frozen with fear as his entire body went numb. Distantly, he heard screaming, not entirely sure if it came from himself or Hicks. Probably both. He finally dragged up the presence of mind to duck his head and clench his eyes shut as he waited for the fatal crunch.

It never came.

Shocked, Takashi opened his eyes and looked up. Godzilla was standing upright again, shaking his head slightly. His movements became almost robotic as he backed away from the two men. A light behind immense golden eyes seemed to suddenly dull, and the mutant's entire body seemed to sag. Without making a sound, Godzilla slowly turned around and trudged his way back to the sea, silently disappearing beneath white-tipped waves.

The agents rose to their feet, still numb with shock. "What was that all about?" Takashi asked.

Hicks remained silent, eyes focused on his now ringing cell phone. Picking it up, he did his best to control the inevitable tremor in his voice. "Cutting it a bit close there."

"I told you so-called 'roadblocks' could be avoided," came the smug reply.

"Right," Hicks swallowed, staring at the spot where Godzilla had plunged beneath the ocean surface. "Until you crash right into one."

Takashi gave Hicks a curious look, not entirely sure of whom he was talking to. "I'd say _Gojira_ did a lot more crashing into us," he quipped, gesturing to the destruction that clearly marked the mutant's path both into and out of the city.

Hicks rolled his eyes. Iffy metaphors were the least of their worries right now. He clamped his phone shut, only for it to immediately ring again. The Major scowled. "If that son of bitch is calling me back…" he muttered, checking the caller ID. The name on the screen abruptly silenced him. "Oh hell..."

* * *

---New York--- 

"You're in Japan?" Nick gawked. "You're actually in Japan right now?"

"Yeah," replied the voice on the other side of the line. "Amazing, huh?"

"I can't believe you Tony," he hissed. "Eight years. Eight goddamn years working together and this is how you repay me."

"If I recall correctly," Hicks said, "those first two years weren't exactly what I'd call 'working together.'"

Nick grit his teeth. "So that's your excuse?"

"My excuse for what?"

"You know what!"

"No, I don't know what."

"Bullshit."

"Look, I went on a mission to Japan while you were in New York. Last time I checked that wasn't a crime. We don't have to be joined at the hip here, you know-" Hicks voice suddenly stopped and Nick could make out someone asking a question in the background. "No this is not my wife." A beat. "It's worse."

Rolling his eyes, Nick said, "If I were your wife, I'm pretty sure a judge would find this grounds for divorce."

"I didn't lie to you."

"I don't care if you didn't lie! You deliberately kept me out of the loop!"

"Deliberately? There was a bit of a crisis going on here. I had bigger things to worry about."

"Like how you were going to keep Godzilla's return from me?"

"I wasn't keeping it from you."

"Then how come I didn't know about it until now?"

"Slipped my mind."

Nick snorted. "That's weak, even for you."

"Believe what you want, Nick."

"I sure as hell will. Why'd the higher-ups send you to Osaka?" He didn't wait for Hicks to respond. "Because of your past experience with Godzilla. Now if they viewed that as a reason to specifically send you in, why is it that someone with even more knowledge of Godzilla gets shut out?"

"You've got more than knowledge," came Hicks' reply. "You've got an emotional attachment."

"Which is exactly the reason I should have been there!" Nick cried. "The attachment goes both ways."

"We don't know if that's true anymore."

"Well of course you don't. You didn't even give it a chance."

"Have you seen the mess Osaka is in right now? Godzilla was on the rampage. We didn't want to leave much up to chance."

"Five minutes, Major. That's all I would've needed."

"Right. Five minutes for him to stomp you flat."

"He would not."

"Sorry Worm Guy, but I think he would. Something's different about him."

"Then let me see him. Let me figure out what's going on."

"Can't do that until after we get this mess cleaned up."

Hicks' statement worried Nick. "You mean after you blow him apart?"

"We won't do that unless absolutely necessary."

"Our definitions of what's absolutely necessary seem to vary a bit," Nick retorted, recalling the recent New York 'attack.'

"Look Nick, I know how much this means to you. Believe me, I wasn't thrilled at having to keep you from becoming involved."

"Then why are you?"

"It's simple: you're a liability."

Nick scowled. "That's a load of crap."

"Not entirely. You're not an impartial observer here. Your judgment's clouded, to say the least."

"So what, we keep people off missions based on possible vested interests?" Nick asked. "I don't see you shunning agents from New York whenever the latest monster to crawl out of the woodwork decides to take a walk in Central Park."

There was an audible sigh on the other end. "Just think about it. What would you have done if you saw Godzilla rise up out of the water, right in front of your own eyes?"

Nick paused. He didn't know.

"My point exactly," Hicks stated, correctly interpreting Nick's silence. "There's too much at stake here for you."

"That's exactly why I should be there," Nick replied.

"As much as you've got riding on this, the citizens of Japan, hell, the rest of the world, have more." A pause. "I don't know if you're pushed it out of your memory, but I remember what a mess you were the first time Godzilla disappeared. Do yourself a favor and don't put yourself through that again."

Closing his eyes, Nick let out a long breath. "So I'm out?"

"Sorry Worm Guy," Hicks sighed, "but you were never in."

-----------

Monique leaned back against the tiled wall, arms crossed, impatiently drumming her fingers against her abdomen. Just moments after receiving an unidentified call from Japan, Nick had ushered both her and the orderly into the hallway. The assassin had almost seen it as the perfect chance to escape; that is, if the hall hadn't been filled with people. She had no doubt she could dispose of each and every one of them if necessary, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw even more attention to herself.

So it was by that line of reasoning that she found herself waiting for twenty minutes in a busy corridor, dressed in a hospital gown no less. She hadn't seen her clothes anywhere as Nick pushed her out of the room. The orderly had quickly left, apparently having better things to do. At least he had made himself useful by offering to first come back with her clothes, though she hadn't seen any sign of him yet.

She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes in frustration. And here she thought Americans valued efficiency.

A loud slam caught her attention. She turned just in time to see Nick standing outside of the door, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His gaze caught her's. "I need to take care of something. Stay here."

Put off by the commanding tone of his voice, Monique crossed her arms. "And if I do not?" she replied coolly.

Throwing up his hands, Nick relented. "Then I can't stop you. I've got bigger things to worry about right now. But I think you should give some thought to what we talked about earlier."

"Meaning...?"

"You know what I mean," he said, casting her a critical look before setting off down the hallway, nearly colliding with an intern.

Monique watched him depart with a kind of passive interest. There was definitely something strange going on with her former boss. But whatever it was, he could figure it out on his own. As close as he had come to convincing her to stay, nothing he'd say could keep her here now.

A slight tap on her shoulder suddenly took her by surprise. Monique turned to see a pile of neatly folded clothing resting on an outstretched hand. Containing a sigh of relief, she gratefully accepted the apparel. "Merci beaucoup Monsieur..." she trailed off, silenced by the realization that it was not the orderly she had sent for her clothes.

The stranger pushed thick wire frame glasses down his nose to make direct eye contact. "_La Minuit_."

Monique's heart rate quickened. She rapidly scanned every inch of his body, looking for any possible sign as to whether he was friend or foe.

The man, however, brought her raging internal doubts to a halt when he handed her a manila folder, all too familiar in its inconspicuousness. Taking it, she slowly raised her gaze back to his, letting the noisy din of the busy medical center fade away as her entire existence re-centered itself on the words that came out of his lips.

"There's been a change of plans."

-----------

"Alright Dr. Craven, I'll give you one more chance to do this the easy way. What were you and Nick doing in Cameron Winter's office?"

Mendel had to admit he was impressed by the number of ways Rich had been able to rephrase that very simple question. There were no timepieces anywhere on the dreary gray walls of the interrogation room, but he was pretty sure a few hours had passed. Or at least it seemed like a few hours had passed. Time had a way of slowing down when you were being grilled by a latent sociopath.

Ok, maybe sociopath was too strong a word. But the veiled threat of Tighe, the hulk-like figure lurking in the corner, was completely uncalled for, and in Mendel's opinion, a bit sadistic. He knew his rights. The M-Force didn't have the authority to lay a finger on him. He had been an invited guest to Solstice headquarters. A reluctant invited guest at that. He hadn't even wanted to go!

Damn Jonah. He knew from the moment he caved that this would all end badly.

"Dr. Craven?"

"I told you I was waiting to meet with Cameron Winter, outside his office. I don't know where Nick went. He said the bathroom, and I believed him. If you guys think otherwise, well then ask him yourself."

Rich leaned over the steel table separating him and the robotist. "You didn't notice _anything_ suspicious about his behavior?"

"No."

"He didn't seem at all upset about meeting with Winter?"

"Well a little, yes, but I would hardly call that 'suspicious.'"

"Really?" Rich asked, intrigued by this admission.

Mendel sighed. "Look, I'll admit, there's bad blood between them. I worked with Nick for two years; I saw it myself. But Nick's not the type to use underhanded tactics to get what he wants. A little sneaking around when the government was running interference during a mission, sure, but all things considered, never anything _that_ bad."

Frowning, Rich leaned back in his chair. "You don't think he was snooping in Winter's office? Looking for dirty laundry he could use against him?"

"When Nick has a real problem with someone he goes the confrontation route. Just trust me on that."

Rich stared at Mendel, apparently mulling over the new information. Growing increasingly uncomfortable under the close scrutiny, Mendel fidgeted slightly, hoping Rich wouldn't take that as a sign that he wasn't being completely forthcoming.

Which he admittedly wasn't. Because...he...

Was protecting Nick.

Why _was _he protecting Nick again?

For old times' sake, he supposed. Or maybe a part of him was still loyal to his former boss, even if he had left the team years ago. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to turn back now. That'd be as good as admitting he had lied before. And if he did that, then Rich definitely wouldn't believe him when he (truthfully) said he didn't know exactly what Nick had been up to.

A buzz sounded over the intercom. "Um, Agent Reynolds?"

Rich walked over to the small device embedded in the wall. "Yes?"

"There's someone here to – HEY!"

Both men raised their brows at the sudden commotion on the other end. Mendel's, however, shot up even further when a very familiar voice replaced the previous light, feminine one. "Rich? What the hell are you doing?"

The agent in question bit his lip. "Dr. Tatopoulos, what a pleasant surprise." He paused. "How did you find us?"

"I'm not the one who's going to be answering questions here. What in God's name gave you the idea that you could kidnap and harass a civilian like this?"

"With all due respect he's not quite a civilian..."

"You're right. He's with me. So I'll be taking him back now."

Mendel let out a relieved breath. Whether or not he understood just why he did it, he was starting to be glad he had been so firm about vouching for Nick.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Rich evenly replied.

"Why not? He's answered all of your questions by now, hasn't he?"

"Well yes but..."

"But you haven't gotten the answers you wanted. Sorry to break it to you, but that's not a reason to hold someone like this."

"I don't believe you're in a position to be telling me how to go about M-Force business."

Mendel blinked. While at Solstice, Rich certainly seemed to defer the position of authority to Nick. That definitely didn't jive with the amount of lip he was giving him now.

"Well then I guess we can let a civil liberties attorney decide, hm? You know the Force is already on thin ice with Uncle Sam. You don't want to be the reason it falls through, do you?"

Mendel looked at Rich hopefully. Avoiding the blond's gaze, Rich instead glanced at Tighe, who shrugged. He hoped they realized there was no way they'd get him to turn on Nick now. Keeping him here any longer would be a waste of time.

"We'll need some contact information in case we have any further questions," Rich finally relented. He unlocked the door and gestured towards it. "But for now, you're free to go."

"Finally," Nick said, barging in before Mendel even had a chance to get up. He looked pointedly at his former teammate. "Come on. We've got something we need to take care of."

"Well ok, but-whoa!" Mendel's train of thought was cut off by Nick grabbing his arm and forcibly dragging him out. "What's going on?"

"You tell me," Nick asked when they were safely out of earshot. "What were you in there for?"

"They're suspicious about what you were up to at Solstice." Mendel was so sick of evading people's questions at this point that he figured he might as well be straightforward.

Nick groaned. "What did you tell them?"

"That you went to the bathroom."

Nick stopped abruptly and regarded Mendel with a look of disbelief. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"You covered for me?" the brunette continued. "Even after...?"

Mendel nodded. A couple minutes ago he could hardly believe it himself.

A short silence ensued, before Nick spoke up. "Thanks." After getting a half-hearted shrug in response, Nick pressed further. "I really mean it, Mendel."

A small, sheepish smile spread over the blond's lips. "I know."

It wasn't quite reconciliation. But it was something. A moment of sorts.

That is, until that moment was broken by the sound of Nick's cell phone.

"Sorry," Nick mumbled as he fished in his pocket for the offending object. He gave Mendel a lopsided grin. "But seeing as you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future, you'll have to get used to this." Flipping open the phone, Nick held it to his ear. "Hello?"

The tone of his voice suddenly became tinged with surprise. "Monique?"

The caller's identity was a bit of a shock to Mendel too. He had thought the Frenchwoman would ditch them as soon as she regained consciousness.

"How did you get this number?" Nick asked. "...no I didn't mean...well no, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it's just...you what?" Nick looked taken aback. "You will? Why?" Another pause. "I don't think I'm being too nosy-" he said before being cut off by the voice on the other end of the line. "No you're right, this is what I wanted, but...ok ok, fine, I'll stop. Where are you right now?" He glanced at his watch. "Ok, meet us at hangar two in fifteen minutes. I trust I don't need to give you directions...didn't think so. Alright, I'll see you there."

Mendel waited for Nick to hang up before launching into the series of questions the partial conservation brought up. "She'll meet us? In a hangar? Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes we are going somewhere," the younger man said absently, choosing to only address the last question, since he figured the answers to the first two should be self-evident. He broke into a light jog, gesturing for Mendel to follow. "The hangar's a good distance from here. We'll have to hurry to meet her in time." In retrospect, Nick wished he had given them a bit more time to cover the necessary ground, but a voice in the back of his mind told him he needed to give Monique as small a window as possible to change her mind.

"You really need me to come along?" Mendel asked, huffing slightly but matching his companion's pace.

Nick was silent for a moment before glancing over at Mendel.

"Let's just say we're going to visit an old friend."

---End Chapter Four---

**Updated Author's Note (12-16-05)**:

Yes I realize that was insanely late. I kinda lost direction for this fic. I owe you a fair warning that as of now I can't see myself writing more anytime soon. I will try my best though. We'll see.


End file.
